November 21st
In Which I Am Mad At My Central Nervous System
Oh-ho! Looks like someone just got their copy of Skyward Sword! I bet you can’t wait to play it, huh? Look at it—sitting there all golden and shiny. Man.
Here’s the thing though, you useless brain: you can’t play it. No. Because you’re going to write something first. Anything. You can’t play it because you have spent two days listlessly sloshing around in my skull, while I have been trying to write down some stuff that I know you already know. You have been wasting my time, brain, and now I intend to waste yours. And you need me, if you expect to swash any goddamned buckles tonight.
So! How about this, huh? Just you and me; one on one. Mano-a-neuro. Locked in a staring contest. Or I guess, like, an optic nerve tug o’ war or something. I notice you’re still not doing me any favors here, word-wise. Fine, I guess “mano-a-neuro” was pretty good. Still.
Bottom line: you got lazy. You churn out a mediocre sub-140 sound bite every so often, slip it under the door when I’m not even paying attention, and go back to humming songs from Mega Man 2 for hours at a stretch. But, oh, you see these suckers right here? Paragraphs. And you hate them—oh, how you hate them. I can tell. All this cohesion is just grating on you. Jesus, no, I don’t want a “I’m down with those PPs” joke. Will you please try to focus for five minutes? This is exactly what I’m talking about.
Let me tell you how it’s gonna go down here, friendo. We’re gonna keep doing this. Yes. This is going to keep on happening—maybe daily—until you pull your act together. I’m not sorry in the least. The deal is: you suck it up, and I keep the caffeine coming. No negotiations, no bargaining. Now let’s go save some princesses already; Christ.
