Today is Incremental Tuesday.
The commute will be incremental, scooting from one traffic light to another to yet another and then another and another and another still until I eventually find myself at my exceptionally important place of business where the day will eek by doing exceptionally important tasks as an exceptionally important, contributing member of society, minute by minute, crucially relevant moment by moment and absolutely, positively no periods will be wasted during this timeframe.
Then I shall commute back home where all incrementality will finally conclude for the day. And periods will be. In abundance. And. Misused.
The commute will be incremental, scooting from one traffic light to another to yet another and then another and another and another still until I eventually find myself at my exceptionally important place of business where the day will eek by doing exceptionally important tasks as an exceptionally important, contributing member of society, minute by minute, crucially relevant moment by moment and absolutely, positively no periods will be wasted during this timeframe.
Then I shall commute back home where all incrementality will finally conclude for the day. And periods will be. In abundance. And. Misused.
What does any of this signify? We've been through this drill before. The sound and fury, accumulated in increments or not, wasted periods and all, signifies nothing. No matter how many times you attempt to multiply small amounts of anything into nothing, the equation still amounts to nothing...it's just that it accumulates into a whole lot of nothing. Ask any mathematician to confirm this fact, it's very strong logic.
Perhaps solace can be taken from the incremental accumulation of daily insignificance?
Tomorrow is yet another day and I will no doubt feel pointless in my inane efforts to underutilize punctuation. However, I will not neglect to deploy my jazzing hands and those jazzing hands will remind me not miscalculate insignificance for irrelevance. Period.
Today's Jazz Hands were incrementally ill.
Day two-hundred and forty-six complete.
Perhaps solace can be taken from the incremental accumulation of daily insignificance?
Tomorrow is yet another day and I will no doubt feel pointless in my inane efforts to underutilize punctuation. However, I will not neglect to deploy my jazzing hands and those jazzing hands will remind me not miscalculate insignificance for irrelevance. Period.
Today's Jazz Hands were incrementally ill.
Day two-hundred and forty-six complete.
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