i, am a pontificating grad student, that will gladly participate as a conversant, simply so i can wrap the rim of my thoughts and watch 'em ring in concentric circles like waves of liberty.
usually as the conversation progresses i, harbor not a care in regards to which directions the, needle and thread of topic goes; so long as the fabric is continuously woven, and beads of ideas keep on rollin', i will remain comforted in yielding to the flow.
but, o-ccasionally i will stumble into a discussion, often with a young man in proximity to the age of myself; now i do not consider myself a confrontational individual, but refrain from denying the fact that sometimes i revel in a little conflict.
we prepare to engage:
he strokes his armamentarium of knowledge with onanistic glee, hardening his defenses, attempting to loom above me; tryin' to impress his lady friends who i simply have no interest in, and in research i've discovered that the best weapon is no weapon.
i'll drop this fool with peace.
he comes at we with all his might, verbal front thrust kicks and strikes to da chest, violent, furious, and berserk at best; red eyes, heat effusing, yang rising to contest.
but what he meets is a ghost, barely visible at most, movements undetected tectospinal messages deflected; and so he tries to punch the river, and fails to respect the void, slips into swift current, cold, thrashing and paranoid; his own arguments bind his limbs to his corpus, the current carrying him hopeless to the cliff-side of his arrogance; i bow to my befuddled aggressor, turn heel to head home and crack open a book.
