Of course…

I wrote this after taking four shots of Robitussin and reading the entirety of Cat’s Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut.  I forgot about it until I was looking through my notebook recently and found it.  It seems like my emotions were out of balance at the time and when I read this I think about Bobby Boucher’s mother yelling “That girl is the devil!”   I am hoping this is a more eloquent version of that anecdote with the same affect.  Just keep in mind the Robitussin.

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Of Course…

They sat in a small french cafe with its white table cloths and light wooden chairs.  The place was filled with natural light that made her eyes look like the morning.  They had coffee and croissants together and they joked about how the place would be their own little parisian get away from the cesspool of Hollywood.  The way he stared at her was the way a father stares at his daughter as she performs on stage.

His phone rang incessantly but he did not notice the vibrating in his pocket.  A commercial airliner roared over head and his attentiveness to her remained unwavering.  A train rumbled past them so close that you could hear the patrons of the dining car conversing about how the chicken was over cooked.  His gaze was still unabated.  A car crashed through the front window of the cafe and hung there to the right of them with the engine still running and ambulances rushing to the scene.  Still he looked upon her unmolested by outside forces.  Then the earth shook violently and rattled the entire world.  The ground fell off and splintered away around them into a dark hell-fire.

She said to him

“My what a marvelous hole! Would you jump in it for me?”

He replied

“Of course darling”

He got up and wiped the bread crumbs from his jeans.  Then he turned and jumped into the abyss, with a smile.

the pessimist

 

I just felt like roasting myself tonight

I’ve gone inside myself to try and find out what is in there.  Everyone likes to think that there is a deeper meaning in life.  Rather life being a tragic farce in which you are never truly happy.  Only the illusion of happiness sprinkled in occasionally with boredom and disappointment.  Pessimism seems to be a handy remedy when dealing with existential crises.  What’s the meaning of life?  Who really cares?  The times we are most emotionally stable are in times of indifference.  Learning to let go of the things we cannot control is probably the greatest trait for one to possess.  The main motivation for my writing is based entirely on masochism and trying to not be one of the fucking idiots that I deal with on a daily basis.  I try to think that I’m deep and intelligent but in reality I’m just an insecure misogynist with commitment issues.  I’ve heard that hatred of others is just a projection of hatred of ones self and I believe it.  But once again we come to the “accept the things we cannot change” concept.  I’ve made mistakes that I have learned from and some that I haven’t.  At the very least I try to be aware of myself and remain humble at all times.