April 14, 2012
Much as a horse in springtime will rub off its mane, I must divest myself of that which is obsolete and irritating. Also like a horse, I graze and digest almost constantly. Life’s grass passes through me almost the same as it entered, subject to the extraction of vital sustenance. The manure is then spread across a field, thereby yielding new growth. You understand that at this point I am not talking about literal horseshit, correct?
For each of the next five days, and in order, I request the following: a native familiarity with simple courtesy, ruthless ambition tempered by skepticism, freedom from jingoistic tendencies, adherence to independent thought, and a spirit of high-mindedness. I never ask these things of others; I expect them of myself.
I do not claim to be a god, a demigod, or icon; my operations run in life’s background unseen and unsmelled by common people, the ones who dwell in boxes of wood or brick and send endless pages of random thoughts to each other. These messages in bottles form glass mosaics that tile the ocean’s floor. My brilliance rests in the fact that you are unaware of my labors.
I used to have a journal in which I’d record all pertinent data—comings and goings, snappy one-liners, pre and post tax expenses, enemy initiatives, and general observations about those who wish me ill. The journal is lost now; in my efforts to keep it well hidden, I am now unable to lay hands on it. Instead, I transcribe my notes onto cash register receipts and carryout restaurant menus, which I stuff into my pockets for security and quick reference.
Spare a kind thought for the horse that bears an unsympathetic rider, or strains to pull a wagon or sledge. This noble beast could be saving your world.
Similar horseshit (here).