Paltry in Motion

Though presently archaic, that semi-abbreviated rhubarb cake, given to me by two collaborating friends, was perhaps the most enjoyable meal in a week. The enjoyment dwindled, ever so slightly, when I discovered that the joke I extracted from it was, for all intents, utterly imperceptible, but hell, I was used to that — I don't intend every sensation as fodder for my muse. Now, where was I? Nowhere was I. Apologies: for no reason I can discern, cake turns my sneer inwards. Compensating for the arrogance of temporary contentment, perhaps? No, not that cake — it's past tense for a reason. The present cake is of a different cloth entirely: chocolate, the obscenely moist variety. Scatters the brain, too. Did I mention that?

Having reached this point, you're no doubt wondering what, exactly, I'm getting at. Well, bless you: you obviously aren't from around these parts. Nevertheless, here's a gallant stab at elucidation: cake, particularly the initial rhubarb, has a way of shaking one about in ways that other foods — beef sandwiches, for instance — are incapable of doing, if only for lack of effort. And the mentioned shaking (more metaphorical than physical) encompasses a general lack of straight-down-the-line reasoning and motivation. Have a civilised discussion with cake and I'll have a fit. Case in point, here: inject what you may where you may, but don't expect to cure the fog.

So, what have we learned? Well, firstly, cake, in this context, is powerless. Well, secondly, cake, in most other contexts, isn't entirely as powerless as it may seem, it being an innocent slice of cake and all. Thirdly, the catch-up, as I now dub it, has the distinction of being utterly indistinct from non-conscious catch-ups quality-wise. The same source bears all, and little can interfere. It's either beautiful or tedious, depending on your ilk. Me, I say it's paltry in motion, twice because it actually means something.