Fat Free Milk

So stumbling around the blogosphere, as I do entirely too often, especially at work, I came across a new-to-me weblog that I love and I'm not sure why.

Anyway, I like this post most. Excerpt:

You spend most of the day doing things that you don't want to do. In between bouts of busy madness, you keep yourself sane by thinking of porno-type things that make you happy and that you'll do when you get home finally.

When you get home. Activities are road-blocked, slow, or just make the clock go at a spasmodic rate. Then it too late and you should probably be in bed. You accomplish nothing. You wake up tired, fuzzy-headed and with no focus except for getting to your car. You arrive at work. I like vegetables. You spend most of the day doing things that you don't want to do. In between bouts of busy madness, you keep yourself sane by thinking of all of the things that make you happy and that you'll do when you get home finally. How did Thanksgiving come so quickly? You spend most of the day doing things that you don't want to do. In between bouts of busy madness, you keep yourself sane by thinking of things that make you happy and that you'll do when you get home finally.

I'm not sure I can tell you why this piece -- and it really can't be appreciated compositionally unless you read its repetitions, involutions, and subtle variations in full -- satisfies me so deeply. It sounds almost silly to say, because the author, Kevynn Malone, sort of mocks this as a non-serious effort. He does that a lot, in fact. But something of the quotidian, workaday rhythms of most of our lives is distilled here in a way that's quite precious, quite true. And elsewhere, the site gets at something of the frustrated underperforming underachieving writer that resonates rather powerfully with me, also a frustrated, underperforming, and underachieving writer.

Not really sure. But it earned FFM a permanent link under MoonOverWords.