We might not use the word “genius” in all these contexts, but the mystery is the same. Where did this exceptional ability come from? Is it just another trait like brown eyes or curly hair? We know only that this aptitude defies our disciplines and formulas and couldn’t have been foreseen. Bestowed upon otherwise ordinary people, genius singles them out in one salient regard. It’s a gift that the wise don’t take for granted, a revelation that might beckon each time we visit a gallery, see a movie, attend a concert, open a book.
And then comes the last kayak, plenty buoyant, and in it a beauty contestant in minimal black swimwear.
“Bawk-bawk be-gehk!” she cries, and I know just where she’s coming from.
Heaven favored me with three successive clement weekends.
They should be required to share a double bed and commit adultery with each other every night—twice if possible.
If you want to write worse than the average undergraduate male, consider philosophy.
Low flames and smoke and visions of the eschaton.
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