Neuritis Is Physical Boredom
2001-06-06 - 9:29 a.m.
Some say the end is near. Where will you be, when the seven horses ride? And what will you be doing, when the circle of fire swallows the world? Hopefully not wondering what kind of shirt goes with your newest pair of high heels.
I don�t know where I�m from. For some reason, this is bothering me. Last night, while I was working on the sketch of my portraiture in the lounge, people thought I was making an African (TM) derivation of myself. A black me. And several people thought I was drawing a very humanistic alien (I left out the eyes for the present, so these ones really didn�t count.) I really couldn�t see it, but I�m the type of person who can�t tell his drunken Irishmen from his flamboyant French. They all think in the same structures, when you get right down to it. So, logically thinking, I asked Lucy if she thought I was partly African (TM). She thinks I�m Scandinavian. But I ask someone else (randum), and she says I�m most likely a German crossed with...mutt. I really don�t look like either of my parents. Most of my family says that I look like one of my uncles, but that just say that because we both have red hair. And I was born with blonde anywho. Is it a crime, not to know where my grandfather lived, as much of a crime as a boy not knowing his father�s name? You people, with your silly little reasons, silly little blames. Scapegoats and forethoguhts, that�s all we are to the binary mind.
Sir#1: They says you are not the product of the clothes you wear, nor the job that you have. But it may go further...for you are also not a result of the time in which you live, or the genes that reproduce the materials to create your fleshy self.
Sir#2: On the contrary, my dear Sir...You are, quite hypocritically, the product of the environment that you are attempting to resist. The composite of every television show you have watched and every musical ditty you have overheard...The composite of the people you choose to spend time with...the composite of the stock market and the American economy.
Sir#1: I could survive in an uamerican economy...it would be bliss to know that not every person has a hair dryer, living out of magazines and cigarette adds, to fuel their �soybean futures� (credit to George Carlin).
Sir#2: You would be as a clownfish in a desert wasteland, except not as humorous.
Sir#1: Grr. Do you hear that? That sounds like a can of whoop-ass just waiting to be opened.
Sir#2: You know, they market that now...Whoop-ass (TM). It�s made by Jones (TM).
The countdown to the Gateway (TM) has begun. Mmm, the power of P3. (Even though it says P!!! On the box.)
I might have died today. Funny thing, it didn�t hurt at all. If you died every minute of every day, whould you really notice? It happens so fast...the jet lag is enough to make you forget the first few years of your next life.
Possibly Related Sidenote: My short-term memory is shot. We�re talkin� magnum, none of this saw-off shotgun-with-birdshot shyt.
It�s the old nature-nurture argument, applied to asphalt technology. We must assume that when the driver does something �right�, they can feel it, almost instinctively. Did they make the road, the speed limits, and the cars specially proportioned to a full-grown human in an average-sized car? Is it quite possible that there are people with no other job than to test-drive new cars on old roads or old cars on new roads, to further the advancements of vehicle technology, based on their gut feeling alone? Is our �right� feeling based on their ability to feel the same? Or could it be that it is a conditioned mental reaction...just because you did something smack in-between the two bad areas; driving in-between the metaphorical lines of too fast and too slow, or too right and too left? Because you made the turn that you wanted, without anyone screaming or cursing under their breath? It�s an open game on both fronts, really. They�re both sort of absurd. The first because of the sheer difference in human and vehicle structures...no two people can even experience the exact same gravitational force, let alone being inhibited by a unique feeling of that gravity. The second simply because it is behaviorism. I disbelieve it because I would rather not believe it. It sucks the magic out of the world, this being, this mind, this thought. Besides, if the latter were true, I would be able to learn to drive by inducing a stimulus on my noggin, even without the car or the road. And I can�t learn what I can�t be tought.
�Once a king, always a king. But once a night is never enough.� �Trevor (next door)
There�s a concert tonight, some guys from the school. Kind of a graduation present to everyone, for a decently funn year. At this point in their career, they�re still burning CDs and selling them dirt cheap. They haven�t official decided on a name yett, as far as I know (although they�ll most likely announce it tonight). Happy headbanging to y�all.
