I am Rapunzel.

The winds of change are upon us. Aye, but these not be the ones to make us filthy, stinkin' rich, nor those which pull at our purses, or bust out our beltbuckles. For uniquity's sake. Maybe. So much is done these days for the single and absolute purpose of reaching that temporal state of absolute singularity. What is fashion. What is avant-garde. Unless it is in way of useful innovation. What is cliche? The extent to which something is cliche is directly proportional to the amount of material pertainable to that cliche concept/idea. The only people who would register this complaint are the "intellectuals". Those who would take interest in something purely for the intellectual stimulation, or more often than not what seems to me to be a pursual of innovation purely for its own sake. Whether that innovation is any good or not is irrelevant. It simply has to be different. If one is presented with something remotely similar, it must be a clone. Worthless. Cliche. After that intellectual arousal must come the intellectual climax. An epiphany? Sure. More cannon fodder for the next Book club meeting? Maybe. Satisfaction at having one up on the sloven masses? Possibly. I seem to see them under a very much green light. Jaded or simply wet behind the ears. Or maybe it is just me being bitter [or snobbish] for my lack of enjoyment in the pursuit of intellectual stimulation. To be able to consume, there must be at least one other who would create. Though we may have all come from an absolute singularity, the past and the future are indeed seperated by that which we call the present. That is where we live. That is where we should live. Change is good. Change for the better. Change simply for the sake of change? Not such a good idea. Without purpose, without meaning - without substance.

Or something.

You can burn the soapbox now. Ironic though it may be.

There is nothing to talk about these days. What is above isn't really polished. It does not completely hold my interest, either. It is completely meaningless. A car. Without any gas. Lacking an engine. And wheels. No matter. Something interesting shall come one day. This has a 30 year warranty. Void upon death, my dead body, apocalyptic events, breakdown of the internet which may or may not fall under apocalyptic events, electrocution, thunderstorms, the seven seas, the deck of the Brawling Pumpkin, drawing pair Aces, the drapes. Show's over.


Another letdown.