Thursday, March 31, 2005

Like Cassandra, I too have the burden of prophecy. Fortunately, my curse is not to forsee the fall of Troy and have no sympathetic ear to tell. My curse is the prophecy of the mundane. I constantly have visions of the future but rather than the useful ability to divine doom or winning lottery numbers I can only see the dull portents of upcoming banalities. I will have the clear vision of me brushing my teeth at an unfamiliar sink and a month later I will be in a hotel at that very sink that I foresaw. The worse calamity that I have foretold was a head cold as the premontion of my sneezing into a tissue came to pass. The biggest problem is I constantly confuse the memories of my
everyday life such as sitting at my desk typing with the predictions of my everyday life such as sitting at my desk typing in the near future. This morning while waking and listening to the news, I saw in my mind's eye the eating of a delicious soup. Spooky, huh?

"Have I missed the mark, or, like true archer, do I strike my quarry?
Or am I prophet of lies, a babbler from door to door?" -Cassandra

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