Nanoose Bay — RNG — A local academic with three advanced degrees spent the better part of Saturday afternoon rubbing his chin and wandering from his junk drawer to the back of the wash machine, waiting hopefully for a miracle delivered via the aether that might convey the correct screwdriver into his hands so he may finally repair the malfunctioning unit in his laundry room. Upon initial visual inspection he was unable to identify the screw pattern and was for a time at a loss.
“I am at this moment gripped by an ennui that can only be assuaged by a miraculous epiphany!”, (trans: ‘Mommy!’) he exclaimed. Switching to French for no good reason he moaned, “Blessent mon coeur d’une langueur monotone!”, (trans: ‘When in doubt say something abstruse’). This was followed by a shouted “Ach du lieber!” He had now inexplicably begun expostulating in German.
Pivoting seamlessly to English he muttered, “Existentially, I am the author of my own weltanschauung, but I live in heightened anxiety that propels me to an acute shame — a shame which cascades from my super-ego way-on down to the basement, very near the puddle this crap wash-machine has caused when I hip checked the tap — during my awkward frisson of furtive agitation. Apparently one should not attempt to tighten a screw with a nail file from an inverted position, no matter how secure one believes his moorings. Ouch, my fucking neck. At any rate my none of my theses touched upon screw-driving”.
Speaking to no one and everyone he continued, while fruitlessly feeling around under the couch cushions, “Although I hold with Kierkegaard’s observation that the self is a relation that relates itself to itself or is the relation’s relating itself to itself in the relation, right now I don’t particularly give a rat’s hairy arse”.

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