Wordsmith Wednesdays

Here's a piece of prose I wrote nearly four years ago, about a guy I was seeing at the time...

Intelligence Excites Me

In a world where language is rotting; in a world where the average dolt on the street knows nothing unless it’s been in the glossy magazines; in a world where loud-mouthed morons are famous for having no talent, for embarrassing themselves on national television; in a world where people with any sign of intellect are ridiculed and outcast; in this world, intelligence excites me.

I sleepwalk through life needing minimal brain power to function. Spending more thought on simplifying words than exercising my vocabulary. I’m locking away my genius, caging it. Each night in my dreams a manifestation screams at me, begging me to release it. It’s only a matter of time before I’m indistinguishable from the mindless zombies that surround me.

But there, a lighthouse beam in the fog that threatens to envelope me, is my salvation. Someone with intelligence. Someone whose brain will awaken mine; fire it up with an electric jolt, and battle with it. Conversation! Oh how I’ve longed for conversation to defy the grunting caveman mentality I’ve had to cope with until now. Reasoned debate from someone with a better argument than “cos I said so.”

I’m awake again. Alive. My brain has been set free. Running wild across the landscapes of capable thought. My blood races through my veins, filling me with life and energy and excitement.

Each nonsensical moron I encounter now, each attack of stupidity, slides over me and leaves me unscathed. My beacon waits for me at the end of the day, armed with stimulation, friendship and hour after hour of uninterrupted, unadulterated intelligence.