it’s really you?
yes, it’s really me. really.
So the time has come where I can say I’m almost about to be able to think again, freely. There are a handful of weeks where this luxury is afforded me and what usually happens is
What are you blanketing about, or blanking? why can it be that the coffee stains and the upholsterer are not ever in the same room together. Its outcoming like a weathervane. It’s an outcome to be considerate about, and something to hold your tongue for in public.
Once while sitting with 3 other people at a restaraunt I forgot how to talk and then afterwards how to eat. My food arrived and I smiled at it, figeting. A napkin on my lap, the glass of water very friendly and at a comfortable distance. There was noise coming from the mouths of my companions. It was very dark outside. A wonder any of our senses worked at all.
The cost of Christmas trees: $125 on Broadway above the hundreds. The cost of Christmas trees: a large steak knife and determination in penn’s woods.
What means of this, discrepancy?
Oh, so really, you’d like a conversation? Noblesse Oblige.
Tomorrow is the last of my paperswimming. I will order a hat full of beer and still have to pay for it. Seriously though, I’m going to be able to carry on a conversation without telling people that “I have to ____.” My most common response regarding social and political engagement. This and next week, with handfuls of serious contempt I will wander among the madly shopping throngs and attempt to make wise gift choices for the coming exchange. I really wished I knew what people wanted, or what would make them feel like I knew something about them that most people don’t. Though maybe that’s just the Ebay commercials that have been on all day seeping into the old noggin. They say it’s the thought that counts, but what if you think wrongly about someone, as I’m often prone to doing? It may not be drastically wrong, but wrong enough. Say you have a friend who has allergies to a certain type of animal. You might give that person a picture of the allergy-animal in hopes that their comfort with it in picture form may lead to an eventual change in body chemistry so that they become magically unallergic over time due to their sustained proximity to the picture. A picture to be placed by their bedside, say. And when it’s received, none of this information passes between gift giver, and gift receiver so there’s a serious mistrust of judgement regarding any further interaction these two people might have. Well, maybe not that drastic. But what about giving a blender to someone who only eats baked goods that are handed to them over a countertop. And what about receiving gifts, like clothing? What do these things say to us about what people think we are? You have to love those notorious aunt hand me down sweaters. What we can become in others eyes, only their cranked up head engines can know. Oh the weather outside is perfect for that hand stitched reindeer antler hat I got for you last year, yeah the one with all of the fiberoptic lights.
And what in hell do you buy for your parents, especially when you actually like them? Someone needs to come up with a giftcard you can use anywhere. Oh, wait that’s money. Who really likes getting money over a well thought out gift?
A question to you, then. What is the best gift you’ve received from someone else? You can do a ranking of sorts if you’d like. I’ve put away my distrust of numbers for the time being.