Category: The Desk of Gabriel Morton

Not a real desk

The Zinger Pie

The Zinger Pie

A lot of the respect that monks get is undeserved. What? Any idiot can be zen if you take away every stress of the modern world. The truly at peace can walk among the thorns and not mind the scratches. After all, it’s the scratches that make the undamaged skin feel good. But then, what do you do when the scratches pile up? When the scar tissue envelopes you like an impenetrable carapace? What happens when the zen reduces your life to a meditative hum so esoteric the only monastery that will have you is Centrelink?

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