Good friends, I have failed. Shameful missteps have haunted my footsteps of late, and I acknowledge that my stumblings are entirely my fault. I have failed, and I will do so again. Inevitably. It angers me. To be so doomed, to be so pathetic. What can I do, but wait for more sin to envelop me? What can I do? I wonder and beat my brow, willing myself to change, or at least to escape. Is this it? Is this it?
Hold. But hold indeed, what is that?
It is the bass drum!
It is nothing. A low, pumping, pulsating, beat, nothing more than a stretched out wave of frequency. But hold, dear body, how dare you shift likewise! You enjoy the beat? I can't but help it, tho it contrasts harshly with my strong desire to roll around in self-pity. How dare I jig at such a time, I was enjoying my most melancholic moroseness!
But what of it? There's a God, right? What must he think? His child, so flawed, slopping around in sin and temptation, and what must he think? If anything or anyone can pull me out of this most melancholic mire, it most definitively is the great being who thought the whole darn universe into existence! Pull me out, slap me upside the face with common sense, and shout into my ignorant ears, "HEY! Wake up! What are doing there, slouching meekly, when you are still alive? You are alive, aren't you? Your body still functions, and here you are, in the middle of creation, selfishly thinking only of yourself?"
Forget my losses and my shortcomings, they are in the past! Yes they happened, and yes I am sorry for them, but what is to stop me from living still? Learn from your mistakes they say, get back on the horse they say, and so I shall! Enough sadness, I will confront the future both with defiance and with pep, and will boogie into the future with the bass drum of the present cheering me on.
By Jove and by Gaffrey, if anything can change, it is me!
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