Of Stubbed toes and Punching Dry Walls

My dear punk, I know what you're thinking. And it's not whether I've fired six rounds or five. Hold it, backed by a bout of severe criticism from certain critics, existential, surely not the word I have in my mind, and imaginary, I have decided that from this current instant, and I mean this, I will alert the audience before I take my customary, seemingly unnecessary diversions. Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I've kind of lost track myself. But being this a .44 magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world and that would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question. Do you feel lucky? Well, do you? Punk. And that's certainly not what you're thinking because you're ambling along thinking, 'What a day it has been and what a rare mood I'm in, why it's almost like being ..', and then, all of a sudden you stub your toe against a dry stone and you are out of your reverie.

I'm sure you sweats know what unagi is. There is a concept in karate, called Unagi. Ah, some things really make you roll on the floor and laugh like crazy. It is quite something, and it's a real work out too. It's an exploding gigaloop. Exploding, because the gigaloop by default is implosive, initially at the least. Surely, on the floor on all your four limbs and punching the floor with your fists, you laugh so hard you start crying and your stomach starts aching; rolling around loling and then you think, ok, ok, enough. Everybody goes quiet for a moment, and then all of a sudden somebody just can't hold it in any longer and you're at it all over again. I don't know! Well, I did bring up Unagi for a reason. A person who is capable of true unagi wouldn't end up injuring the toe in the manner I have previously described. Maybe, just maybe, actually I'm sure there are times in one's life when one cannot remain in a state of true unagi. Of course, the simplest solution would be to wear shoes when you're out walking, but then you would miss out on the amazing, but painful, stubbed toe experience. 

Every time I've stubbed my toe, I've learnt a new lesson. On second thought, maybe I've just learnt the same lesson in a different way. It never was an act of recklessness, but more an act of appreciation. I'm sure the not-so-fair people understand what I mean. After all there is a soft spot, occasionally reserved, for those fairer people; actually when these fairer peoples stub their toe it most surely is an act of recklessness. Well, me being a football player and of decent pedigree, there are times when I play bare-foot. That reminds me of what one wise man among the wisest had to say, "Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the wind longs to play with your hair!" Winds blowing and the hair playing, and yet another stubbed toe. Alright, back to the football. But first, a statement worthy of my modesty. I'm sure you folks know that I would be the last to deny the fact that I am light miles away from being a good footballer at any decent level. Actually, pick up the previously used adjective, pedigree, and chuck it straight at the kennel. What I intended to say is that I've never hurt my toes playing football. Night cricket at the entrance, yes! Anyway, you know what some wise men say - You stub your toe for a reason, oh you sure do!

Surely, this isn't all about stubbed toes. Being Photonman, I should be able to tell you how light is limitless and tireless. General relatively speaking, I'm speaking about waves and reflections and therefore how, everything we do, and by we I mean everybody, is just some sort of reflection. Newton's third, maybe and surely not! Song writing is something I've got to look at. He did say his music was literal. Actually, punching walls is something I'll talk about another time. Bright news for some of the old sweats, I've started working on my 'Elementary Treatise on Berbatovian Mechanics'. Patience they say, is the art of hoping. And what Wordsworth had to say, those beautiful words from the springs of tranquility, so apt. 

This ain't no poetry, but surely it isn't prosaic.

I know, for it was she who said, "It's mosaic."

Who the devil is she? It's always been said, 'Sometimes it's all in the name!'

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Well, I wonder, 'What's in a name??'