change but the name...

...and it is of you this tale is told.*

Via Crooked Timber.

Of course, in my case you'd have to mutato not only the nomine but also the activity in question: I can't remember the last time I re-wrote my resume with any sense of earnestness or sincerity, inflating every miniscule contribution until I felt like Atlas carrying the weight of the world on my capable if tiring shoulders.

On the other hand, the column on the right pretty much describes my day. Every day I dream of the work I could have accomplished if only I had stayed away from the mail, the blogs, the feedreaders, the poetry online. Every day I make a resolution to write out a Vow of Cyber-Celibacy, one that will smell of incense, ritual and good intentions. I stare at my computer screen basking in the glow of a pure thought that is going to be thunk through when I notice that I have new mail. And it's from Heineken announcing that I've won their lottery. (You know that old Chesterton one, about news consisting of telling people who never knew Mr. Smith was alive that he is now dead...)

One of these days, I will grab a clutch of napkins and make my way (walking) to the nearest coffee shop and sit writing the next mega-billion franchise. Characters will come, as they always do in these cases, fully formed; I will only take dictation.

* mutato nomine de te fabula narratur. Horace, via - need I say it even? - Scaramouche.