Day 1: Monday
Good morning Zak,
As you know, today marks the beginning of our new blogging project. We needed to start as soon as possible before we both came to our senses. Beginning today, you and I will be posting our personal correspondences to Thily Fin on alternating week days: I post today, Wednesday, and Friday, you post Tuesday and Thursday this week, etc.
Under your advisement, I have taken it upon myself to write our first entry. This is obviously a very easy task, since all I have to do is write the worst entry I can so that expectations will be as low as possible. That’s why the opening of every great piece of literature is always the least memorable part:
“Midway through the journey of our lives, I found myself in a dark woods, for the right way had been lost…
“When Gregor Samsa woke up one morning from unsettling dreams, he found himself changed into a monstrous vermin…
“In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth…
You can only go uphill from there, Zak.
It’s easy to feel self-conscious about “creative” writing. I think that’s because it’s something no one really expects of you. Like, Zak, you wouldn’t feel self-conscious about turning in a financial report to your boss. (I assume that’s the kind of thing you do when you have a real job.) That’s because every part of that report would be meeting very clear expectations, and whatever you included would either be right or wrong. But if somehow that report form had an extra blank box in which you were supposed to enter the “thily fin information,” you might be a little bit anxious.
I’m guessing it would show up right before “total liabilities expected for the coming fiscal year.” Maybe you would decide to draw a picture. Maybe you’d write a story about an internally conflicted cashew. Whatever you decided to do, you probably would wish that your boss had been a little more specific about what he was looking for.
The thily fin box, though, is probably one of the more memorable blank little boxes that could show up on a financial reporting form.