I've always been susceptible to the bizarre gesture. It's due to contrarianism at its worst. Sometimes I feel like I live my life like a shell game. Plain cups hiding a jewel and occasionally someone picks the right one and gets something special. Or else, they get nothing but disappointment.
I'll admit that I came out on a Monday night looking for trouble...of some sort. I was in the midst of moving inertia and it seemed like good a night as any to abandon myself to whiskey and conversation and see who I ran into. I was in the midst of a sentence when he appeared next to me and my friend. We gave each other a mutual dismissive glance when he tried to interrupt. Keep it moving, buddy. Then he ordered a Jameson and High Life and went projectile about a minute later. That deserved an eyebrow raise.
He babbled about bad falafel and rushed to clean it up and we at his end of the bar laughed cruelly. Who would think that'd lead to any sort of a conversation? Then again, you're not me. I was looking for trouble and I found it.
Five months later, I'm trying to shake the badness. This year has been epically disastrous. Almost ironically since I've been so focused since December on not making the wrong decisions and instead choosing the bad option every step of the way. I've spent a lot of time thinking of that old conversation about finding your fit. Farmer apparently was right and he's got plenty to show for it, but my gut always seems to be wrong. That self-imposed exile year and change was obviously a waste of time if the first one out of the gate knocked me square on my ass worse than before. The Boy almost doesn't look so bad in comparison now. But, let's pretend I never said that.
Posted by Candicissima at August 13, 2008 11:50 PM | TrackBack