Growing Old

I've been stewing for the last two hours on a post about consistency, brought on by the Celtics blowout(comb) and how everyone loves a quick fix, no one expects a dynasty, and why Outkast dropping five classics in nine years is, like the Jordan Bulls, something I'm proud to have been around for; but the more I think about it the more it seems insurmountable*. (Kinda like that Celtics lead in Game 6**. ) Because -- and here's the part where I open up and reveal my soul -- I'm inconsistent like Jesus made chairs. Who the hell am I to judge? Confidence breeds consistency; and, as previously reported, so does conflict. I'm more the former than the latter, but until Dr. Phil picks my brain(s) and I get a proven mathematical formula, I'm not making a definite conclusion.

Here's what I do know: time will reveal. Here's what I know more: time will mask. Because, fuck me for living, tonight I actually had the impulse to revisit Outkast's phenomenally disappointing 2006 album, Idlewild. I actually made an Idlewild booty call. My bad.

Bottom line, I know nothing. Perhaps you've heard.




* I can't believe I spelled that right.

** In case you can't tell, there's a LOT of schadenfreude*** going around at Chez Sparkles right now.

*** Jesus, what has come over me? I'm suddenly a mutant with the uncanny power to spell little-used words.