My hypergraphia is sometimes useful, as I am always being approached by our good friends to write speechifications for the souvenir programs of our fund raising activities and such. I would never comply, except that the prospect of writing for some really powerful people is quite tempting, as if I’m inhabiting them for two seconds and I am actually powerful myself. Nah, not really, I hate the thought of being powerful, I am content with my little corner of uselessness. But still, since I’m pretty useless in all the other aspects of these activities I might as well help in any way I can. And besides, if not really to pretend I’m powerful, it’s fun putting words into other people’s mouths, no not putting, more like ramming down their throats. This time, Papa Ruter indicates that the speech would be credited as being spoken/written by four powerful people. I love schizophrenia.
But obviously I can only spew so much cliche and platitudes and niceties and such, and since this is the tenth speechification I’ll be writing I would need to eventually regurgitate old stuff, keeping in mind that to regurgitate also means to vomit, and vomit sour, fetid crap at that. And not only do I need to vomit stuff, I would also need to mish-mash the vomit that’s already on the floor so it would not be too recognizably regurgitated to the two people that actually read it. The Man has recently given me an excellent birthday gift in the form of a pack of chocolates, and in her birthday note she has thanked me for risking esophageal cancer time and again for regurgitating deadly acid. There’s nothing like a chocolate-y pat on the head from The Man.