Saturday, May 23, 2009

bucolic in V-fib

I’m back.

The previous episode has come and gone, and it has been about two year since the last entry. Within that interim, I finally realized what my constant familiars have been griping about. My entries do seem just a tad confusing, peppered as they were with affectations—totally unnecessary words and turns of phrase, which are seemingly-clever and incomprehensible at first read…or the second read, for that matter. Going back now, I felt the whole episode should have been called distress in bucolia for all the agony I’ve inflicted on my hapless readers, which in this case is barely none since I’ve only written to a select number of friends who I’m quite sure have given up by the second sentence. It’s no wonder I got a less than stellar response.

And here, I should commend (and be grateful to the high heavens) to the three who did make a tremendous effort to respond.

  • Ben, who I never really appreciated as much as I should and who for some reason is misunderstood by some, for the comment. I apologize for the distress, dear friend. And even though you barely understood what I wrote, the effort was well-appreciated. But most importantly, I truly value your unceasing ability to make me laugh.
  • Anak Tintin, who amidst her own turmoil, has provided me with the much welcome and most consistent form of response via comments and correspondence from her blog on the two entries I wrote for her. I am quite aware I have disappointed you so many times and it will forever boggle me how you could still be there for me and consider me a pseudo-parent after all this time. Boggling or not, I do appreciate your friendship, but more so, the constancy no matter where I am.
  • Tina, who I can always rely on to supply a much-needed acknowledgement (although I would rather be caught dead than admit to this), for the comment and an actual reply in correspondence form, which could be seen from her blog. When everybody else has given in to my desire to be left in peace, you stubbornly held on and refused to let go. I’m glad. And for not allowing me to be alone during special occasions even when I specifically asked for it, thank you.

So with that pretty much self-indulgent acknowledgement (merely here to make me feel warm and fuzzy) out of the way, let’s proceed.

Where to, Ms. Daisy? Nowhere is my calculated guess. There’s no shifting when gears have taken root. But I’m just being confusing again.

It’s quite interesting to always be writing that I’m back when I’ve never really felt as if I left. But if only to acknowledge “the absence of pain, suffering and angst” (writing, in a sense), I shall use the tired/tiring/tiresome phrase to indicate that I’m writing/blogging again. The era of bucolia is now a terminal patient and I’m about to pull the plug. Another era begins. The correspondence form shall give way to essays on anything and everything or nothing…I simply refuse to care anymore. Or maybe I’m just bored senseless and feel that it’s unfair so I might as well bore other people with my pointless harangue. Either way, this blog is officially ended, and nothing is ever going to be the same again.

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