- Published on Tuesday, 10 April 2012 16:49
- Written by Rhynhardt Krynauw
Yet again, I find myself with nothing to say. Nothing original, at least. Everything is a copy of a copy (That’s from Fight Club).
I’ve come to the somewhat demoralising realisation that very little of what I say is my own. A few decades of interacting with people, reading, watching films and television and listening to music has filled my head with other people’s thoughts, at the expense of my own. Evidently, this head ain’t big enough for the two of us (Bugs Bunny Rides Again).
When I hear something amusing, my brain says “I’m confiscating this. This too.” (Ten Things I Hate
I then regurgitate said quote, ideally without people realising, whenever I see fit. Someone drops or throws a book? “You didn’t like that one?” (A Time to Kill).
Someone being unco-operative? “Help me help you” (Jerry Maguire). Someone struggling to grasp what I’m saying? “English, Mother****er! Do you speak it? (Pulp Fiction). I find parking in Cape Town CBD? “Like a glove” (Ace Ventura), or “Eeeeexcellent” (The Simpsons). Someone say’s I’m late? “I arrive precisely when I mean to” (The Lord of the Rings).
Anyway, all of this revelatory regurgitation was the result of the realisation that, ruefully, I reappropriated in my previous column, remorselessly and regrettably, some rip-roaring repartee, read in a letter written by one Nicola Sprawson. You’ve been referenced. Rightly.