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An Unceremonious Return, Framed In a Self-Reflective Piece Which Attempts to Explain the Author’s Need For an Unceremonious Return in the First Place

December 20, 2009

Man, I am lazy. I mean, just check out the lead here. Nothing.

Before you get the wrong idea, allow these parameters: I have a job; I work out; sometimes I do the laundry without being asked; and this one time, I walked all the way to my parents’ house to get a lawnmower because ours wasn’t functioning properly. (It took me like thirty minutes to pick up the mower, cut the grass, and return the mower. This was months ago, by the way, and I haven’t stopped complaining about how awful that experience was. Plus, my neighbors think I’m a psycho.)

I feel that we’ve already gotten off topic, but I’m too lazy to re-work that paragraph to ensure optimal flow. (I’m also not sure if optimum is the proper word here, but I’m way too lazy to open a new tab, Google optimal, find the definition, and decide if it fits.)


When it comes to writing a 500 word blog post on the topic of my choosing, due whenever—forget it. I’ve probably sighed loudly, thrown my hands up, and flopped back on my couch twenty-five times since I began writing this—which, by the way, was last week sometime. (I don’t know when, exactly, and I’m too lazy to try and figure it out.)

Chances are, this will never reach publication. If, by chance, you are reading this, it is probably rife with spelling errors and poor punctuation, because good heavens, proofreading sucks. Seriously, is there anything worse than reading something you’ve written and finding that it’s awful? (No. There is not.) Similarly, is there anything lazier than filling up column space with self-answered questions and random, overused asides? (No. There is not.)

It’s quite sad, really, and I’m doing the world a great disservice. I have some pretty awesome ideas from time to time, and, after writing them down in a day planner that I always lose, the thought of sitting before my computer and transferring that disjointed thought into coherent essay or column is…uh, bad. (Too lazy to find the optimum word.)

For instance, I’ve long held the belief that M. Night Shyamalan’s (spelling? Who knows!) The Happening was an commentary directed at his industry colleagues on horror movies and how awful they’ve become. He knew it was the worst movie ever, and he wanted to prove that the dim-witted populous in this country would still come out in droves for that garbage.

That is the most I’ve written of the subject since I first considered it last summer. And if you think I’m going to expand that thought into a complete idea (and so forth), well, I’m tired just at the suggestion.  Instead, I’d much rather do something that won’t result in an occurrence as annoying as brain stimulation, like play video games, or stare out the window.

I stare an awful lot.

I guess this would be as good a time as any to let you know that I don’t plan on having any sort of grand conclusive statement to wrap this all up. Perhaps the only reason you’ve gotten this far is that you’ve misrepresented me as some sort of deep thinker prepared to explain what this laziness represents, and, thus, explain something bigger.

That would take a lot of careful planning, though, and a search for the most intriguing strand related to this series of thoughts, and, I mean, that’s just not happening.

(Note: The author was once an infrequent and largely unreliable contributing member of The Brown Tweed Society. His intentions are to run a weekly column, but judging by the words above, it probably won’t last.)


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