Tuesday, June 30, 2009

dites-moi pourquoi


I have to ask: Why did yesterday's rambling, nonsensical post garner more comments than usual?

Was it the Hofstadter? Or the randomness? Should I skip all the lovingly Photoshopped images and just go with stream-of-consciousness babbling? That would really save me some time, and I wouldn't have to hear my wrist make all those little popping noises while I scroll around fiddling with levels and curves.

For example, writing about GEB last night reminded me of all the time I spent crooning love songs to that book, which reminded me of all the maudlin, horrid poetry I wrote in high school, and now I can't get the phrase "tears like bleeding skies/wash the sadness from my eyes" out of my head. Which is just embarrassing. Perhaps one day i'll post some old poetry here and really put the final nail in the coffin of my imagined coolness.

Speaking of high school, I was too busy making jokes about my chemistry teacher's resemblence to Elvis to pay much attention in class, so I have no idea how to classify the bizarre concoction in the image up there. I neglected to follow the directions (huge surprise) while attempting to make play-dough, and we ended up with something that was liquid when allowed to drip and solid when squeezed. It was fascinating and fun, and the Biscuit and I spent an hour exploring its vast yuckiness.

So, yeah, i'm being creative.

But it's really hard to blog in a dark room with two sleeping men and Scrubs on the TV. I remember when I could go to sleep in a silent, pitch black room, but those days are long past. Now I drown out my thoughts with Firefly, Frisky Dingo, Venture Bros., The Office, Harry Potter, and, occasionally, an unmentionable viewing of Mean Girls to which I won't publicly admit. I welcome oblivion with an exacting combination of Play All, Subtitles, and Sleep Timer = 1:30.

I used to spend hours just thinking about things or exploring my feelings. For an entire year in high school, I cried myself to sleep every night listening to "Coast of Marseilles" by Jimmy Buffet because it was just so beautifully sad. Yeah, I can't believe it, either. And then I recognized my own foolishness and switched to Satie. But as an adult, and especially as a parent, i'm too busy living to meditate on living. And when I need sleep this desperately, I simply don't have the leisure to spend two hours staring at the ceiling, thinking. Or thinking about thinking.

So i'm just going to answer my own question up there with "I don't know", wait for the metaphysical slime to fall from the sky, and go enjoy Brendan Fraser as a wacky leukemia patient/shutterbug as I drift off into dreamland.

3 comments:

bibliophiliac said...

Your post yesterday garnered more comments than usual as a result of reverse psychology. You challenged your readers that they would not be able to understand the post, so naturally they wanted to defend the position that they are good little readers and can certainly understand occasional randomness.

Chicago Sane is intriguing, creative, a superior writer, and seems to understand women quite well, but in my humble opinion you are better off with Dr. Krog.

I miss GEB and all of the mentally and artistically challenging interests I had in high school that were fueled by massive amounts of existential anxiety: poetry, art, philosophy, calculus, ambigrams. I still pursue artistic and intellectual hobbies, but not with the same fervor and depth. I am relieved and glad that the teen angst has diminished and that I have found purpose and peace in life. Yet I miss certain aspects of that angst that provoked me so.

Thank you for blogging. I wish I had known you better in high school.

delilah, the unruly helpmeet said...

Probably true.

And I was a maudlin, elitist jerk in high school, incapable of being a decent friend. If I could travel back in time and tell myself anything, I would say this:

1. You're a jerk. You're not special. Get over yourself. Relax. It's all going to work out.

2. Do not under any circumstances major in Art. Try Accounting instead. Something useful.

3. Buy stock in Apple.

BreadBox said...

that substance is called "thixotropic" (or something like that) --- it's really a cool phenomenon!
N.