Lion's Peak

Lion's Peak

I have such grand designs in the morning, and chip away at these aims throughout the day until by bedtime my remaining aspiration is limited to words that rhyme with weeping.

Any of the following executive desk toys would serve as suitable replacements for my ambition:

Newton’s Cradle – It doesn’t matter how high you lift the first ball bearing, eventually that crashing pendulum starts conserving more energy than it’s willing to spend.

Dippy Bird – There’s one sitting on my windowsill in front of a cup so long empty of water that a faint ring of oxidized minerals permanently lines the demarcation between half-empty and half-full.

Pin Art – My original happy face imprint has for the most part sunk almost entirely back into emotional equilibrium. What remains gives the slightest impression of ennui, which for me manifests almost solely by a nearly inconspicuous lift and curl of my left upper lip.

I cannot help but think that if I were to rearrange my daily routine, that is, to start each morning with no lofty expectations and end each night on the cusp of magnificent dreams, I might save a great sum of money once spent on tchotchke and kitsch.