Passion is the faculty that tilts the wings on the plane of
life and sends it soaring upward. It’s what subdues the fear instinct and
encourages you to take risks that you would usually baulk at. It produces
mental and physical tingles every time you contemplate the next fix, which is
most of the time.
I realised recently that I have had only four passions in my
life. One I gave away on a wet April night when I packed a bag and walked out
of the house in a state of shock, another became out of bounds the day I
acknowledged not being 32 any more, a third I simply lost interest in, and the
fourth I gave up for ethical reasons.
And you know, life down here on the runway tarmac seems a little grey
and pointless sometimes.
* * *
It’s off to YouTube now. Maybe I can ruffle some more
feathers and get called stupid again.
(Oh, and the woman who wrote the hysterical, 18-line
outburst hasn’t given up yet. She’s hurled some more bananas my way, including
the accusation that I’m ‘amoral.’ That’s interesting because nothing I wrote
could have given her the clue to the one thing she’s got right. Should I write
back and congratulate her, explaining that I don’t even believe in the concept
of morality, because..? No, better not. The poor woman seems terribly upset as
it is, and I really don’t want to hurt her feelings any more. That would be
unethical, wouldn’t it?)
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