Speaking in Tongues.

I’ve mentioned on this blog before that writers are constantly searching for ways to express themselves which are distinct from everyday speech patterns. Shakespeare, for example, had Macbeth say: tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time. He could have said simply: my future is looking pretty bloody tedious. But he didn’t.

So, having become accustomed to this process over the past fifteen years during which writing has been my primary focus, I’ve developed the habit of carrying it over into my everyday speech patterns. And having my very own blog to quote from further encourages the tendency. And that’s why, if Lucy in the coffee shop (remember Lucy?) had asked me today: ‘And how are things with you today?’ I probably would have answered: ‘I continue to strut and fret my hour upon the stage, Lucy, but all I see beyond the footlights is an empty auditorium.’

Now, maybe Lucy is growing accustomed to my weird way of talking and finds it tiresome. Maybe she’s even psychic and knew I would say something along the kind of lines which must sound absurdly pretentious to any normal person. Maybe that’s why she didn’t come within thirty feet of me today. Maybe the auditorium is only twenty nine feet deep. How fortunate that a sad irony can provide material for a blog post.