BOTTLE IMP

What's the difference between cleverness and wit?
Between mystery and inscrutability? The more I
read, the harder it is to describe anything.
Dagnabbit! I have more options, less direction.
Each new word, fresh from a depressing German
novel, insists on its autonomy-- umlauts and all.

They say that to buy a lottery ticket is to buy the
feeling that you have a chance at winning. The
actual chance of winning is, like a brassiere, a
necessary and seldom-seen underlayer. Likewise,
my pleasure in reading has zip to do with learning
and much to do with the idea that I'm communing
with Great Thoughts. Whether or not those thoughts
osmose into me is...asdf.

Here I yam, flopped on Kate's floor, a noxious little
worm. A satire of a worm? An homage to worm?
On the worm's face, in words of Musil, all the
solemn, monstrous self-importance of a yelling
baby.





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