Tuesday, December 30, 2003

Salutations

It couldn’t have been New Year’s, could it?  It was definitely a night when everybody was supposed to go out with their favorite people.  For some reason, none of mine were around.  It was my junior year, I think - I had no girlfriend nor anything like one, and all my friends had gone somewhere else.  My choices were to stay at home and drink heavily in a solitary stew, or to get out and be somewhere where other people were.  Even if they weren’t being with me, I could still be with them.  I was a vibrant young person full of vitality and untarnished, more or less, by the patina of cynicism, so I chose to go to CSBG just off campus for a drink or three.  I’d get a little buzz, sort out a few ideas, burn off a little energy.  And, worst coming to worst, I’d feel better about doing something dull than about not doing anything at all. 

My decision to leave the house, brazenly alone, gave me a redoubled sense of potency and capacity.  I could decide for myself; I could have new experiences all on my own.  Friends would have been nice, but not having any wouldn’t stop me.  When I got to the bar it was pretty crowded and busy, with an unusually high percentage of “real” people (as opposed to students).  There were even “grown ups” there - people in their 30s, or, heaven save us, beyond.  There was no good place for me to sit, so I stood near a low dividing wall, by myself, sipping a beer, keeping my own counsel.  There was nobody to talk to, and soon that freed my mind in some interesting new directions.  Without a conversation to maintain, I began to pursue some lines of thought more deeply and seriously than I’d been able to do with my friends.  My mind churned with ideas, internal debates, random neurons firing off into the inner space of my cranium… I was having some big ideas.  It was fun and I was glad to have brought a little notebook so I wouldn’t forget my genius revelations.  I fished it out, flipped it open and started sketching my thoughts into words. 

I wasn’t more than fifteen feet away from a table of grown ups where a woman sat watching me.  I hadn’t paid any attention to her; her party seemed boring and she wasn’t what I’d call visually engaging - she’d just been another face in the crowd so far as I’d been concerned.  But as I wrote my thoughts down in my notebook, all about the essence of self and action and such nonsense, her voice cut through the noise of the bar, cut into my thoughts, disrupting them like a veritable Porlockian traveller.  “He’s writing in his notebook, see?  He’s writing down what people are doing, he’s invading their privacy.  It’s unbelieveably rude.  He must be an actor.” I glanced over.  She looked away but her five friends were not quite so quick.  I caught their collective eye and stepped over to their table.

I’m Rubber; You’re Glue

The thing I’ve decided to complain about today is that I’m too nice a person, and so is everybody else.  This is irritating chiefly because I have generated a few great put-downs that I don’t see myself ever getting a chance to use.  It’s like having a check you can’t cash, or a car you can’t drive - the satisfaction is in the using of it, not the silent harboring of it.  I just want to rip into somebody with a really nasty insult and I am starting to wonder when I’ll find a truly suitable foil.  And - let’s be honest - I am starting to doubt if I could carry it off.  To be this nasty right in somebody’s face - I shudder to consider it.  But apart from that, when will I encounter the festering idiot who deserves this kind of treatment?  Well, my philosophy is, if you can’t spend it all selfishly on yourself, share the wealth with everybody.  If I can’t personally burn anybody with these, maybe one of you can. 

So I present the following for your approval - and may the new year bring you no opportunities whatsoever to use any of these.  Otherwise I’d be wishing you a rather irritating new year, and that’s not the Chucklehut way.

* It’s not you, it’s me.  I’m sick of you.
* I’m sorry, I’m saving myself for a human.
* Please wait here while I see if there’s someone who can stand to be in the same room with you.
* Oh, someone was telling me there was a gas leak.  They must have meant you. 
* Would you please just go infest someone else?

Word of the Year

This link offers you the opportunity to vote for your choice of “word of the year.” From the list they have, I think I’d go with “embedded.” It’s really picked up a lot of currency and texture over the past year.  I’d pick “google” but I think it’s renaissance started well before January 2003. 

I’d expect some of you have your own ideas.  “Spiderhole.” “EuroWiz.” “Wordacious.” “Cromulent.” In fact, just on my way to lunch today I noted an unusual number of both new and used condoms on the sidewalk - I identified four within just a few blocks’ walk.  “This,” I reflected, “is what I’d call a high condomsomtration.” Okay, maybe that sucks, but at least I’m trying.  I invite you to provide a better option.  And if you want to influence my vote, you just go right ahead and try.