Sunday, August 26, 2007

She was practiced at the art of deception
Well I could tell by her blood-stained hands

There are people who defy the odds regarding the frequency limits on the possibility of getting what one wants. It’s impossible to say whether they proceed consciously or intuitively to manipulate, but through their own agency they succeed. A moment’s reflection reveals many paths and patterns to follow in the attempt to get what one wants: the path of heads down diligence, nose to grindstone — earnest effort is rewarded kind of thing; the path of thud and blunder, roaring into the drawing room on an outlaw motorcycle, chains rattling, pistons popping, celeriac swinging, laying waste — the mode of kill them all and let god sort them out; and the one that has me spinning this morning, disengagement.

Rather than state what’s on his mind, the successful disengager will talk all around a topic, never revealing a clue regarding his or her preference. In the end the disengager never has a loss tallied in his column, and more often than not, by derailing the conversation, the disengager will get what he wants without ever saying exactly what that is. This is very frustrating to the celeriac swingers (of whom I count myself one). There is something inherently dishonest about it.

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