I just smashed my thumb in the door.
This is my reward for hanging out my wet clothes on the clothesline so late at night. The blood is swelling. An elliptical reddish blister is forming underneath the nail. The thumb feels like it's a float for the Thanksgiving Day parade.… More
I just smashed my thumb in the door.
This is my reward for hanging out my wet clothes on the clothesline so late at night. The blood is swelling. An elliptical reddish blister is forming underneath the nail. The thumb feels like it's a float for the Thanksgiving Day parade.
Social evolutionism is a lie. At least, it feels like a seethingly remarkable joke sometimes, as clueless as everybody usually is. The geography of society feels like a series of plateaus, disconnected, and I seriously question whether there is any ascension whatsoever that goes on. For four (of five) years in college I pretended that I was okay with my surroundings and simply let various crap hit various fans and held out my umbrella. I 'adapted' insofar as I greeted college life with a head full of apathy and a mug full of beer (social progress doesn't count if everybody's drunk). My non-active approach transformed into a dangerous digression when I finally realized that I'd been suckered.
So, I mutated.
I became my own alternate evolution. I goodbye'd and good riddance'd the remaining suckers and their plateaus and haven't turned back since. Except, when I have to confront these suckers again.
I met up with friends tonight I hadn't seen in a while. They were late. I enjoyed a pint and played checkers with myself for nigh thirty minutes until they showed. I won. Both times. I quickly wondered why I ever let them in on the checkers. One guy called me an "Emo kid," because of my rings and bracelets and longer hair. Heh. Something about preposterous labels for things we clearly don't know much about. Veiled in seethingly remarkable humor, of course. The 'hang out' degenerated to a point where we were discussing horrible hand injuries about us and people we know (it's amazing I didn't sense the foreboding, especially in my thumb), stories that usually make me grimace, but with each blow of shuddering repulsion, I rolled off the "eww" and wanted more. The fascination of grossness seized me. I was starving for something from these jokers, and the odyssey of female conquests they were spewing just wasn't cutting it. It's the same damn story on skip, transitioned with that high-five kind of laughter.
Family, however, is a far greater threat to your being.
I think family is designed to hasten your self-destruction. The social implications family represents to your island of social sanity is Krakatoa-esque. Man, they can be a bear.
So, my brother accused me of being gay. Joking, of course, but sort of not. Because I live in San Francisco & that I haven't had any sort of girlfriend in...hmm. Long time. (something my Mom loves to interrogate me about every chance she gets) The only way to get that 5% suspicion of gayness off your mind is to deliver a seethingly remarkable gay joke to your brother and 'casually' study the reaction. I guess preferring lonesomeness is too radical to accept for some. The simplest of phrases can totally undermine the concept of communication, too, when these simplest of phrases are scrutinized for hidden meanings that don't even exist. Navigating the presumption that people have about things is worse than popping blisters. And far more annoying. Seriously, the pretext is staggering. So totally avoiding any message spoken and launching ad hominem missiles at the messenger. Sandcastle conversations in a high tide of complete nonsense. I can get nowhere sometimes, and find myself participating in the verbal cream pie-a-thon. Bah. I love my family, but I don't know why sometimes. :p
I've decided I'm going to fly somewhere cool this weekend. I'm ready to kick up my horse and gallop off to somewhere far away. I liked my last trip so much that I shall take another and make-believe that it will be as good. My options are, for all intents & purposes, limitless. But to keep things sane (a rarity for me, I know), I've narrowed it down to 2 locations: [b]Toronto[/b] and [b]New York[/b].
So, where should I go? Your call, loyal subjects of the Kingdom of Neum. I've never been to Toronto, and I've been itching for a show on Broadway in NYC. I've heard stuff about "Wicked." No, I don't have friends in either city. Hotels.
Your job: Vote. [b]Toronto[/b] or [b]New York[/b]. I will decide by Wednesday evening. And, by then, I will be able to use my thumb again.
EDIT: Hee! Happy 4th of July! *lights firework in sister's room*