My advice to you millions of Diablog readers anxiously awaiting my next post is never join a monastery that demands a vow of silence.
Please read the cautionary tale shown below:
he's allowed to say two words every seven years.
After the first seven years, the elders bring him in and ask for his two words.
"Cold floors," he says.
They nod and send him away.
Seven more years pass.
They bring him back in and ask for his two words.
He clears his throat and says,
"Bad food."
They nod and send him away.
Seven more years pass.
They bring him in for his two words.
"I quit," he says.
"That's not surprising," the elders say.
"You've done nothing but complain since you got here."
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