Dr. Dillydally

Wednesday | March 13th, 2013

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Dr. Dillydally has finally arrived on the scene from his long staycation. Dr. Dillydally sits around in places longer than he should, thinking about doing what he’d rather not be doing and never actually managing to do much except dillydally the day away.

Dr. Dillydally forgets that he has a camera burning a hole in his pocket when wandering the streets of Gyeongju. He walks slowly, yet his mind is busy shunning the teachings of Lao Tzu and embracing Machiavelli to conjure scenarios in his mind which involve the sudden death, hospitalization, deportation, or general incarceration of certain coworkers whom he blames for various acts of something called “cockfuckery”.

He’s the angry sort, Dr. Dillydally. And he has trouble getting things done. He keeps this writer awake at night as scheming is apparently more important than sleeping.

The only way to control Dr. Dillydally is to keep him occupied with physical endeavors. For the years before Gyeongju, it was work. In the years before work, it was Hapkido. In the years before Hapkido, it was Korea, and adventures in alcoholism. And before Korea and all that jazz, it was computers, school, another wife and another lifetime ago. Now, of course, there is nothing but idle and effigy.

This is why I need to get a bike.

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