What the Spam Said

[desperance]

I am of that school that used to have an attention-span but lost it, a while back, somewhere in my twenties; these days I flit, I fleet, I fly. I thank any manner of gods for the interweb, because it keeps me here at the keyboard, it keeps me in place to work. I multitask wherever I am, but only if I'm here is one of those tasks the working.

But anyway, what I meant to say, I check my e-mail constantly, and just now I did that and there was just a spam. And the contents were nothing, one of those pharmaceutical misspellings, but the subject line was "Your health, oat grinder" - and because I am who I am and I do what I do, it was instantly a scene, a classic: the remote and silent peasant mashing up his grain before he boiled his daily porridge, the well-spoken and inherently threatening stranger who comes down the hill to greet him and thereby precipitates all manner of change, revelation, story...

Comments

[mantichore.livejournal.com]

Gee, my spam sieve is screwed on too tight, I don't get none of these interestingly-titled spams. Well, there *was* today the Yi-King-like: "Refreshingly simple way to spice up your life. fateful", but that's slight takings.

[desperance.livejournal.com]

I'm perfectly willing to share. Tonight, I offer you 'Better Future, windmill plane'.

In other news: I suppose in pinyin it would be Yi King, wouldn't it? Never seen that before; I grew up mispronouncing I Ching, and I still do. Although I know better these days. Some things just abide from childhood: my mother had a copy from Singapore, printed on rice paper in the most floridly inaccurate English, with worn brass coins to toss. Ah, what days they were...