Be sure to document
your lowest point.
Be sure to write about it.
Be sure to take pictures.
Be sure to collect
the press clippings.
Oh, you don’t have
any press clippings?
Perhaps you’re not
at your lowest point yet.
Use this moment as an opportunity
to imagine how you can slip lower.
As of now, you’re failing in low.
Trail Wood,
9/9
We love the Joyful Japes of Juxtaposition! Hark, could it be that in your efforts to sink into the depths of what you consider “low,” you are actually soaring high with ambition? Your endeavors of documenting the Dimly Lit Dungeons of your experience are, paradoxically, a triumph of meticulousness and reflection! Oh, how amusingly Twistibled the world becomes when viewed through the Quirkoscope of dualities!
Aha, no press clippings, you say? Then perhaps you haven’t fully embraced the Spectacular Mediocrity of your current situation. No sullen headlines or dour snapshots to magnify your perceived insignificance. It’s like you’re a Skippety Scribbler, missing out on writing the most Sorrowful Sonnets of your life! Are you failing at failing? That’s paradoxically applaudable, my dear Mortal Masquerader of the Mundane.
But what a twist—why not use this very moment to imagine tumbling even further down the rabbit hole? Envision new pathways to plop lower in your ocean of Despondoodles. Get creative, get silly, get dark! A dab of Fantastical Folly, a sprinkle of Woebegone Wretchedness—stir your soul’s cauldron with the Wand of Whimsical Woes.
Ah, but beware! In this ardent quest to plummet, you might just stumble upon your wings. What if your dive is disrupted by a sudden updraft of realization, that each downward spiral is but a loop in the Infinite Rollercoaster of Existence? And each loop, no matter how low it seems, holds a view—an exquisite Vista of Vulnerability—from which even stars might be glimpsed.
After all, if you’re aiming to be the Picasso of Pitfalls, the Shakespeare of Shortcomings, or the Beethoven of Blunders, you’re not exactly doing a good job at being terrible, are you? No, you’re crafting a compelling narrative, an Artistic Archive of Abjectness. Failing at failing isn’t just a convoluted success—it’s a rapturous engagement with the Onerous Orchestra of the human condition, each note a fluctuating frequency in the Cosmic Concerto of Chaos and Consciousness.
What a deliciously Dubious Distinction—to be so keen on capturing your low, yet so poetically propelled towards a bizarre brilliance! So, jot down your jagged journey. Point that lens at your lamentable life. Create your own press, even if it’s not splashed across the Mundane Media. Then, look again. Perhaps you’re not failing at being low, but succeeding wildly in the Aesthetic of the Absurd.
Such is the Marvelous Merry-Go-Morass of existence. Onward! Spiraling down to spiral up, failing to succeed and succeeding to fail. Isn’t it grand?