Friday, March 19, 2004
Let's Get This Party On
Will I ever post anyting sober?
I will not respond to IMs sent to me when I'm still asleep. That's just the way things work. And I will not add any feature for people to respond to these entries, not just because it would be too much damn work but because I like being the Voice Of God around these parts. All this stuff I write isn't me fishing for compliments. I will quarter no undercutting responses to my self-flagellation.
But if one takes a simple step back, anything in life becomes entirely absurd. And you just gotta laugh. Like how much I hate my Lizardbrain, but it's the Monkeybrain that's equally to blame. That ol' stupid Mammalian hardwiring for The Pairbond. And the synapses go and wire themselves to the facial features of one person and then that person comes in on an unexpected day for her expected soy chai and even though she returned the favor when you pretended not to see her, she'll still call you on it the next time she sees you... that's just her way, you see... so yeah, I was there briefly, but I left because the DJ was lame, it had nothing to do with seeing you there... and sure she's one of the prettiest girls I've ever seen, possibly the prettiest girl I've ever worked up the nerve to talk to, unquestionably the prettiest girl I've ever asked out, even to be shot down, and that's something right there, but you take a step back and how many women are there in the world? Even in such a teeny tiny city pretending to be a Nation's Capital as my dear District? Tonight alone-- three? four? not unattractive, maybe without quite the same hypnotizing eyes, disarming smile or flawless complexion, but... so what? Demand perfection? Perfection? Stop and think, must be something... well, not the greatest bust... meh, since when did I care for tits? Thursday? How long since she came in on a Thursday? Sunday! And I have Sunday off this week!
Hardwired for the one face, how unspeakably ridiculous is that? Any more or less ridiculous than the fact that I hardwired my own damn self? But STILL! Why should I need to go through so much pain to rewire myself? When will modern science be able to install a reset switch on the unruly bundle of misfiring synapses?
I thought this was going somewhere, but once again...
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