Thoughts

To cure boredom, I pretend that I am on the stern of a derelict yacht drifting toward the imminent destruction of the falls; and that if I don't take the helm from my brain, currently driving on its monotonous autopilot, I will surely perish. This jolts me from my complacency and reminds me that I am the captain of my vessel. "Arr," I bellow, "ye shalln't take me alive, ye treacherous current." Then I remind myself that I'm actually just in my room, staring at a blank wall, and I find a book with lots of pictures, because I like colors.

Tony the Geologist had met his match: "This little rock I'm holding is nothing compared to the beautiful specimen before me!" Wondering why this specimen was growing larger by the second, and why it was is in the sky rather than on the ground, Tony's mood shifted to silent contemplation. "Why," he queried, "would this rock be above me and not below?" Tony the Geologist then began to feel fear for the first time in his life. Quickly, he turned aside to glance at the pebbles and stones at his feet. "Perhaps if I jump high enough, I can be safe again, for these stones are under me, and they are not growing larger!" So, Tony the Geologist spent his last moments jumping toward the very thing that destroyed him. It was, in fact, a poetic end. Writ large upon the sky was Tony's passion, creeping ever closer in a symphony of silence that brought its viewer to a state of utter hypnosis. He had died a happy man.