Grandmaster Of None

I ain't grand yet.

But I'd like to be.

Some day.

In the distant future.

Now, I ain't talking my kids having kids.

Way too early.

Way.

I'm talking about mastery.

Grandmastery.

I've always wanted to be a grandmaster.

You know, the wise, eccentric, curmudgeony, old dude, with arguably superhuman abilities.

I'm getting up there in age.

What a blessing.

Not grandmastery age, but closer than I've ever been.

Almost seeing it, out on the horizon.

Age wise, if not in ability.

Now, I got a confession to make.

I ain't going to be grandmastery age without being a grandmaster.

In something.

That sheet don't compute.

And since you can't be a grandmaster of all trades, what shall I be grandmaster of?

That's a fine question, if not a bit pompous.

But that's what I do.

Ask fine, pompous, questions of myself.

I hope you all can guess by now I'm always half-joking.

Except when I'm not.

50/50.

But there's always some truth there.

Even I have to admit it.

I try to be me, here.

The real me.

Toned down.

I couldn't give you real me, that I think would be bad for everyone.

Grandmaster of musings columns?

No, no, that sounds awful.

Just awful.

Grandmaster of grandmasters?

Great-grandmaster?

Oh, no.

That just sounds old.

No ish about it.

Pretty bad arse, though.

The wonderful thing about grandmastery, I think, is that there's always time to figure it all out.

Thank You for the time.

Maybe I can be one of those martial arts grandmasters that flick two fingers at a charging student and flip him over a little too choreographically.

Grandmaster Chung.

Hey, gotta ring to it.

🥋

Now, where did I put that how to five point palm book?

Oh right, sold it to Pai.

If I'm honest, though, I'm probably striving for grandjack of all trades.

A grand-dilletante.

A grand-dilly.

And I'm ok with that.

I mean, it's still got "grand" in it.

And that's what I'm going for, you know.

The grand part.

🎹