I am jealous of him. I wish I was as clever as him.
Sunday, 23 March 2008
I am looking at a crossword. I bought a newspaper to enjoy with my breakfast while the sun streams in and lights up the room. Eggs benedict this morning. The crossword is not going well, the clues don't seem to make sense. 1 Across - Not always - someone thinks backwards? That's all blokes. It seems to make no sense at all. I have always thought that I am good with words but I cannot solve these problems. I am still looking at the clue four minutes later. I remember someone telling me that a good trick is to leave the crossword for a bit and come back to it later. I put the crossword down and try not to think about the clue for twenty minutes. I keep thinking about the clue. When I pick up the crossword again it doesn't really seem to have helped. I don''t feel like I have had much of a break. I stare at the crossword for one hour. My eyes hurt. The small black and white squares are imprinted on my vision. Wherever I look I see the crossword. I imagine the composer of the crossword. I think about his fat smug body. He is wearing glasses. He is a big nerd. He had no friends in school, only letters, words and black squares. His name is Tom. I hate Tom. I think about kicking his head until he gives me the answer. He wears square glasses like the squares on a crossword. His eyes look like the letter Q. I really hate him.