a pleasant walk, a pleasant talk, along the briny beach

there is something captivating about stupidity. for one thing, it's so beautifully simple. utter idiocy like inherent genius is characterised by its straight pure lines and unblemished ridges. i try not to get sucked into an argument with persons in their idiot-phase. they dither so convincingly.

i've worked myself into a knot over this. a tight, wet-shoelace knot. this is why i should never argue. it's so distressing, to argue. especially with prejudices. i know it's stupid, i know it isn't worth losing my ragged peace over, but before i know it i've burst a vein and tumbled into the pit. now i'm covered in jelly and the sides of this damn tub are slippery and i'm sticky and cranky and on the brink of tears. oh, the ugliness of it all.

but then there's another kind of person. she loves to argue. in her tempestous youth, she practically founded the If You Can't Convince Them, Confuse Them school of thought. now she's mellowed out and wisened gracefully. but she can still dam the most strident stream of red-blooded ism with a well-placed and devastating, hmm.

and frustratingly often she's "in that frame of mind when she want to defy something, although she doesn't know what to defy." but this person i'm crazy about. which goes to show you how very full of shit i am. and how very very smitten.

you see, charm always gets me. charm, the philosophical equivalent of asking nicely. of nudging a length of blue through the eye of a needle. of glinting warmly at a pat of butter as you slice through it. of curling up in a lap and purring commands of stainless steel. of pattering softly, endlessly for centuries upon a rock, till it cracks itself open in its eagerness to please.