Standing on the Verge of Something
What is it about elaborate conversations about life's minutiae during the wee hours?
Why does it seem so clear when, for once, it's not you yourself the subject but the observer?
How can time evaporate so quickly when its flow defines you for so long?
It took me an extra couple minutes to change my pants before I left the house yesterday. Did it matter? Only that butterfly in Africa knows for sure. (Or is it the children in Osaka hiding from the monsoon? No, they wouldn't be hiding -- rain is beautiful when you're not in charge of shelter from the storm.)
Events without ambiguity are so rare: graduations, birth of a child, death of a parent, etc. That has to be why we (read: I) take everything else and label it, not because we prefer order to chaos, but simplicity and clarity to the complex and vague. Chaos, I could eat for breakfast. Complexity is harder to chew.
I've got a few different laughs. I have one for the "ticklers" (dirty jokes and bodily functions) that sounds like a drunk mall Santa about to go on lunch with a gruff "he he he" and stops when I get the other joke, the one that's on you instead. I have one for the "noodlers" (conclusions to funny stories and phrases about people that can only be understood by their friends and enemies) that sounds like a machine gun in need of oil with a tittering "hih hih hih" into a maniacal "ah ah ah." I have one for the "rollers" (jokes about good ol' egocentric me and the absurdity of life, and they don't even need to be jokes, so long as "funny" means all it can) that sounds like a crashing Maui wave beginning with an erupting "haHaHAHAHA" when my belly starts to shake and the room shrinks so I can grow and who is this freak and where do I get drugs like that?!?
I will only tell you full, unambiguous truths and simple statements of fact if I dislike you. It's because I don't think you're worthy of my complexity. Hard to chew? Maybe, but how does it taste?
Why does it seem so clear when, for once, it's not you yourself the subject but the observer?
How can time evaporate so quickly when its flow defines you for so long?
It took me an extra couple minutes to change my pants before I left the house yesterday. Did it matter? Only that butterfly in Africa knows for sure. (Or is it the children in Osaka hiding from the monsoon? No, they wouldn't be hiding -- rain is beautiful when you're not in charge of shelter from the storm.)
Events without ambiguity are so rare: graduations, birth of a child, death of a parent, etc. That has to be why we (read: I) take everything else and label it, not because we prefer order to chaos, but simplicity and clarity to the complex and vague. Chaos, I could eat for breakfast. Complexity is harder to chew.
I've got a few different laughs. I have one for the "ticklers" (dirty jokes and bodily functions) that sounds like a drunk mall Santa about to go on lunch with a gruff "he he he" and stops when I get the other joke, the one that's on you instead. I have one for the "noodlers" (conclusions to funny stories and phrases about people that can only be understood by their friends and enemies) that sounds like a machine gun in need of oil with a tittering "hih hih hih" into a maniacal "ah ah ah." I have one for the "rollers" (jokes about good ol' egocentric me and the absurdity of life, and they don't even need to be jokes, so long as "funny" means all it can) that sounds like a crashing Maui wave beginning with an erupting "haHaHAHAHA" when my belly starts to shake and the room shrinks so I can grow and who is this freak and where do I get drugs like that?!?
I will only tell you full, unambiguous truths and simple statements of fact if I dislike you. It's because I don't think you're worthy of my complexity. Hard to chew? Maybe, but how does it taste?