Paraprosdokian

(being a figure of speech in which the second half of the statement causes the hearer to reinterpret the first part. Often used for comedic effect, the use in "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother" is a rare use of the form as pathos.)

So to a much overdue blog post.  Where were we?  Just gearing up for Rabbie Burns, as I recall.  Can it have been just one Friday since, and only two since picking up the Teke man from Fred and learning of the Bahamas relay triumph?  You may be only a month old, 2013, but you have been memorable.  There is no doubting that.

The 25th was again a grand one, many oysters and some Scotch and a rousing Drysdale stabbing of the Haggis followed by the Casino and a random hallway art of the make-out attempt.  I'm sure I have noted "Here's a Health To Them That's Awa" before, but all the better now to toast young Chuck, and the poem found for the love-begotten daughter none too shabby for Ms. Sofia either.  And as always a precursor to St. Patrick's Day that resonates, with the old songs and the like.  "For these are my mountains" fast becoming a new favourite.

But to the complications...  strike that, looking at it that way is all wrong.  Although (he thinks) find a better succinct word for it all.  Leave it.  A very peculiar entry into a scenario that can only be considered dream-like, certainly not one to be believed straightaway if it had been pitched back in the fall.  Such a breakfast, and yet the disappointments and ever-present inabilities continue, for now.  Never a better chance to work things through, so slowly slowly through the awkwardness and see it done.  Por que no?  Good to see at this stage you can at least induce such shuddering.  Though added to that the other random opportunity, so random and out of nothing that it is a secret buried in a secret and makes things all the more hilarious.  And then a third, insignificant tangent - deeper and perhaps as complicated - the fleeting laughter with the sparkling eyes following a magical moment of atypical confidence. 

Will nothing come of the last, truly?  Must I send another final note, something like... "figured I would try one more time in case this is the right number.  had fun mocking people with you at the Palace and wouldn't mind doing so again (although maybe not at the Palace this time, eh?).  do let me know."  Heh.  Will you ever be  a VIP there again?  I would like to say I doubt it, but rather look forward to the absurd circumstances of the inevitable instead...


In the future ye shall know if such efforts were in vain, or to a larger purpose.  The uncertainty in the interim at least makes things interesting.  I know not what to think.  As the makeshift crew of unknowns next door continue singing bizarrely, sparking at least the title of this blog post, an email to Nick, and a smiling shaking-of-the-head at the absurdity of it all.

Ah, for that's what it always is, at its best.  Against Expectation.  A new favourite, then.  Paraprosdokian indeed.