Thursday, April 5, 2012

It’s a fundamental truth. The wandering mind gathers no real thought. Through idyllic fog that ran amuck in his brain, he searched for proof of banal existentialism.
Tedium wrung its way through each fiber of his muscle. Teenage is such a rickety old bridge. There seems to be no end on either side, when did he get onto this conduit? From the ceiling the fan hung, swirling in a circle, seemingly slowing down with each revolution, especially through the haze of his eyelashes. He’ll wait for serendipitous ideas to set his philosophy. It was too dreary to search.
Mind still wandered through esoteric zones.
Jeopardy is jejune now: naïve knight
finds ogres out-of-date and dragons unheard
of, while blasé princesses indict
tilts at terror as downright absurd.
Sylvia Plath screamed at him through the distance from his English class. Eidetic memory was an energy draining curse. How immensely wearisome.
As though through dense molasses he heard her voice.
“Dinner’s gone all ice cold! What in the world are you doing in there?”

E is for Ennui


  1. "Teenage is such a rickety old bridge." Brilliant.

  2. "He’ll wait for serendipitous ideas to set his philosophy." Uncanny. It's almost as though you've described how I was 20 years ago...

  3. "Teenage is such a rickety old bridge."


    This reminds me of - N is for Neville who died of Ennui (Edward Gorey)

  4. Wow. This is wonderful. Damn Tim for saying what I was going to say first.


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