Valley Of The Dulls

Roughly four weeks ago I discovered dullness. Or, rather, dullness discovered me, relocating into my cerebral cortex like a cheerful parasite. Immediately dullness did a jovial simulation of Invasion Of The Body Snatchers and began creeping into every deed and occupation: work, meals, reading, listening, even sex.

Dullness is devious, underhanded, sly.

It didn’t prompt nor announced its advent (“Dullness is arriving!”). There was no buzzing at the door (“Oh, hello, Dullness checking in!”). It practically discarded all manners and courtesies (“Sorry for the invasion but I got sick of Poland!”).

Soon after I’m reduced into something less human: I’m legitimately transformed into Dullness’ thrall. My eyes were beady. My movements got out of synch. People began to appear identical. Everything looked beige. Scampi pasta; beige. Deadlines; beige. Online porn; beige. Brushing teeth; beige. Movies; beige. Jägermeister shots; beige. Insane jokes; beige. Fornication; beige.

Sometimes the call of obligation and a pinch of guilt squeal at the back of my head (“Finish your work! You have so much to do! Be Productive! You can’t rot on company time!”). Dullness, having rendered all locomotive synapses invalid chirps otherwise (“Read that forgotten stack of magazines and abandon them mid-paragraph! The linens sure look comfy, don’t you think? Work is another word for exploitation; you deserve an imaginary sick leave.”)

Keeping my end of the conversation is a struggle; listening to Wagner’s Tristan & Isolde is way too involving, therefore deserted. A mound of half-read fictions began having illicit affairs with dusts. Blogging, a spontaneous pastime became benign.

Struggle is pointless. Why fight it? What for? Apocalypse is at hand anyway, if we are to believe polyester-garbed televised evangelists. What award would I obtain if I outpace dullness? Where is my fucking prize for having to put up with this shit?

Then it hit me. One unassuming morning I woke up ecstatic. No discernable reason. I just am.

Dullness left in a hustle in the dead of the night to occupy The Philippines' Next Top Model show. Then it can replicate itself upon the masses.

Dullness is devious, underhanded, sly. Yet clever and just.

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Hilarious offline YM missive: [name removed upon request]: i was smiling to myself as i read your blog today. the answer to your question about why koreans have such disregard for silence: they're used to shouting at each other from across the demilitarized zone. and i share your sentiment with kids. i love my own pamangkins and some cute behaved kids but i wish for the day that i grow old and have geriatric license to glare and shout at boisterous kids (and oldies who are noisy in church or at concerts)

That shouting at each other from across the demilitarized zone had me cracking up like a maniac! I now bow to your sparkling insight and elevated wisdom! Hahaha!