The Best Day of my Life fragmentation – The desire copulation

Welcome to the best day of my life fragmentation, the blog I write when I want to shatter the myth of the lost art of perfection recognition. And by ‘lost’ I of course mean – never existed. And by ‘perfect’ I of course mean – an imagination. And by ‘shatter’ I of course mean – destroy any signs of shape, color, form, and other forms of boundaries.

Today was the best day of my life – and I will tell you why? Because it wasn’t the best day of my life, at least as would be measured on any normal chart of acceptance or display.

I feel like using words today. Different words, unique words, words that don’t normally go together like say for example ‘goat javelin’.

Wait, goat javelin would be an awesome sport, way better than regular javelin. Unless this sport consisted of throwing javelins at goats. Or involved throwing goats like they were javelins. Or involved goats in anyway. Or throwing things. At least if those things didn’t involve a ball, a team, teamwork, rules, good sportsmanship, athletic ability and an absence of goats. 

Ok, so I had a weird day. I gave into some fears and anxiety, at least in small bursts. And in the frustration of allowing myself this folly of failure, I find myself emerging back into the more mentally positive ether of the late evening with a new desire for individuality, expression and distinctiveness. Hence tonight’s blog. Involved evolution of involuntary personification, if you will.

And now for something more inspirational, or profound, or at least involving some semblance of a coherent point:

My life is not perfect – I mean it can’t be because above, with the mere act of statement, I proved without a shadow of a doubt that perfection is a mere figment of the imagination. My life is far from fulfilling even the most illuminated possibility of this imagined utopia. But since starting this project I have been forced, nay privileged, to end the day not with beating myself up, but rather with a task to find the nuggets of good hidden within the KFC mixed bucket of chicken variety. Today I find a delicious nugget deeper within the bucket than I hoped, but found it I did, and this blog is the dipping of this nugget into the delicious dipping sauce. As long as no part of this nugget was made of goat, then I am headed for bed a happy. Man.

And yeah man, I meant it, that full stop/ period there was far from a fucking accident, man. I am a happy. Why would I ever want to be a ‘man’? Shudder, the horror, don’t they like have responsibilities and shit?  I don’t want any part of responsibilities; I don’t even want to look at a crude mock up of them on a normal chart of acceptance or display! Man.

The Best Day of my Life – four flying coat hangers

Hello everyone, so this is the best day of my life initiative, the blog posts I write really late at night when I really want to go to sleep, but have to do this because I promised myself I would, which sounds all negative and stuff, but it isn’t, because the whole concept of this blog is that I cast my mind over my day, and everything that took place during it, with an admiring glance, no more than that, a leer, as I picture my day as flawless, no more than that, perfect! Wait, is perfect more than flawless? It kind of has to be doesn’t it, because by definition if something is perfect then there can not be anything better. But flawlessness is pretty sweet too. Wait, no it’s not – that just means there aren’t any mistakes, like in my writing skills, it doesn’t necessarily mean that the thing you are talking about is actually good. You can be mediocre, unlike my writing skills, and still be flawless. Wait, I’ll prove it.

Kevin climbed the stairs.

Now that sentence was fucking flawless. All the words are in the right order, something happens, and we know who it happens too, and where it happens, and yet we are left with a sense of wonder, and anticipation, I mean, who is Kevin? Where are these stairs? What’s at the top of them? And for that matter what was at the bottom that was so scary/ not interesting that he left that behind for the potential safety/ more interesting excitement at the top. It’s almost brilliant in its simplicity, it’s not over thought, or played out. It’s informative yet intriguing. It’s captivating yet simple.

Wait a minute, wait a minute, oh fuck it is brilliant, aw man. Fuck, I have just gone and undermined my whole goddamn point. I wanted to write a flawless sentence that WASN’T also actually good. Well fuck me in the mosquito bite.

Shit, that last sentence was flawless and also visually stunning. I can’t be fucking stopped.

But why should I be stopped. I can write about whatever I want here, even about four flying coat hangers, if I want to, even though that’s in the title, and normally I wouldn’t want to reveal why until far deeper into my piece on my day, to save it as an illuminating and exciting reveal, like when a magician takes off his cloak and reveals that he’s actually just a loser playing with metal rings. Which sounds all negative and stuff, but it isn’t because he’s a magical loser.

So there were four flying coat hangers. Who knows why, or how, or why? It’s not important. Because as I have proven not giving everything away is a sign of brilliance, and that’s where I am stuck today, being bloody brilliant.

Oh great, alliteration, an awesome literary trick, I can’t stop.

The point is, today was the best day of my life. I had an audition that went well, I got some good work done, I ate a cookie, and I had several drops of sweat roll into my butt crack. I frigging nailed it. And I feel good.  I’m pretty sure at some point I consumed a beverage, and that’s awesome. In fact only one thing happened all day that I have regrets over – I wanted to write a sentence that was flawless but not amazing, I think I will give it one last shot.

Explode the crises.

Now that’s just damn right extraordinary. I think I may literally be perfect. 

Ps. Any remanding gramitcal or spelling mistakes in this piece were left in on purpose as part of my flawless war on perfection, and in no way represent a lack of being bothered to edit.