Have you ever been bored? I mean, really bored? Like, to the point where you feel the need to write paragraphs about how bored you are?
A funny thing happens. The recounting of your boredom becomes boring and your mind wanders to other things that are necessarily not boring. That is to say, they are interesting.
This is different from the previous two paragraphs, which were entirely boring. And yet to get from here to there requires a certain leap. Or if not a leap, at least a walk across a metaphorical bridge.
“What the hell are you talking about?” a faceless voice demands.
It's a good question. What am I talking about? Who is my audience? Without being able to answer those, I am lost, wandering along that bridge (which we mentioned in the previous paragraphs) with little hope for—
“Dude, this is terrible!”
Well, yes, there's that. Nitpicking aside—
“It's not nitpicking. Give me one redeeming feature.”
Where are you? I can't even see you. I'm trying to make a point here, and you keep interrupting me.
“Because you're boring.”
Right, but that was my point. So we have to walk across the—
“So help me, if you start talking about bridges again, I'll—”
You'll do what? Taunt me a second time? Without corporeal form you don't have much beyond words, which can never hurt me.
There, that seems to have shut him up. Now where was I?
“At the boring part, same as always.”
Ah yes, thank you. So we walk across the bridge and, uh, stuff happens.
You know, stuff.
“That seems rather vague.”
It is, but intentionally so.
“You mean, not a mistake.”
“You know what was a mistake?”
“Listening to you.”