The Cosmic Mixtape

In Which the Players Lose the Scene

Egads! It's been more than a week since I graced this internet space with new words of wisdom and mirth. I, for one, blame this. Aside from my unhealthy obsession with dysfunctional teenagers (mothers, lock up your daughters) my life has been moving in slow motion the past few weeks--if variety is the spice of life, then right now I am a smorgasbord of white bread and potatoes. My particular plot could use a double-cross or a femme fatale or even (actually, especially) a little deus ex machina. As it is, all things in my life have been working themselves out in a painfully predictable manner.

The older I get, the more I start to believe that there are a mere handful of unique people in this world and that I am not one of them. Also, as I get older, this fact seems to bother me less and less. The world generally isn't ready for unique people--we tend to demonize them, crucify them, burn them at the stake, institutionalize them, or at the very least avoid them in the lunch line. I can't imagine they could be very happy in our world. Which is why when more and more evidence is presented to me that I am but one of a great many pressed from a very old mold I can just shrug, taking comfort in knowing that if I'm not significantly different from anyone else, at least I can pretty much guarantee that some fucker is going through the exact same shit as me at any given moment in time. This is the same comfort lemmings must feel when they're flinging themselves off cliffs. I may be plummetting toward the ocean at terminal velocity, but dammit, so is Frank. This is also the same reason death doesn't frighten me as much as it used to--any one event that occurs to everyone who has ever lived is bound to be positively uninteresting. Death is nothing more than the cosmic DMV.

So yes, that's me hurtling from Dawson's Creek to death metaphors in an alarmingly short amount of prose. But hey, what's new? We write about stuff we think about, and we think about stuff we don't understand, which means I think about death, love, and trigonometry. Okay, scratch that, I have to come up with a new theory that accounts for my total indifference to mathematical reality.

Surprising? Not really, but then again not much is, anyway.

posted by Andrew @ 1:43 AM