Friday, January 02, 2004
NT Theology - the tale of an all-nighter
The clock of doom struck ticked closer and closer to midnight, the sound of which resounded in my mind with the thundering drum of a tribal dance of war. Boom! Doom! The noise continued to shake my concentration as I approached the threshold of human consciousness. Doom! Boom! The clickety-clack of keyboard sounds flitter through my soul, the means of my salvation. Faster and faster, they must go faster! First one, then another, then a third is strung together, forming what looks almost like a word, only to be disrupted by Doom! Boom! Doom! They shake the innermost part of my being, causing my hands and arms to physically tremble, shattering any coherence on the page. The misshapen lyrics form a jumble of sentences, phrases really, which express only the merest resemblance of my intentions. The sweat of my palms, thus far used to lubricate and facilitate the manufacturing of typos, gather in the cracks between the keys, causing a river of salt to flow out the bottom of the keyboard, soaking notes already pocked with great drops of liquid stress from my glistening forehead. Doom! Doom! At last, a single glorious paragraph lays exposed and prone on the page, awaiting scrutiny from a critical eye. Is it good enough? With it suffice? Boom! It doesn't matter now, it is too late. We must move on! The race must be won! Can it - Doom! - be done? With a last, heroic effort, I assemble the residue of remaining ingredients of my will: a litre of stress, 2 cups of despair, 3 tablespoons of cohesive thoughts, seasoned with a dash of confusion, and the crowning element, a healthy dose of DOOM! Mixing all together for a last melee, I attempt to swallow the miserable concoction I have assembled. "I have only myself to blame now," I say to myself before drowning myself in my own doom. And then I collapse, shaking, sweating, dying, seeing nothing but scattegories and yellow screens. DOOM! Doom! doom....
"Now you've got some diamonds,
And you will have some others
But you'd better watch your step, girl
Or start living with your mother"
"So don't play with me, 'cause you're playing with fire"
