I'm a bit on the odd side. Some say finicky, others say interesting, while a third group says ‘special’ (thunder fire you!). I tried defining myself as eccentric once, but my boss carefully pointed out that I’d first have to be rich. Oh well. Can I then say I’m artistic? Unique? One-in-a-million? Whatever man, I’m just me, and that’s all there is to that.
So I’m a bit finicky. In a weird sort of way. A week after coming back from a trip, I’m still living out of my travel bag or box, but heavens will fall if my toiletries are not arranged in a straight line, from the biggest (or tallest) to the smallest (or shortest). I find this somewhat dist interesting. I'll leave the sitting room in a state, but almost throw a fit if a grain of rice falls to the floor. And here’s the best part: despite the fact that I always see things from a different angle, I can’t stand frames hung asymmetrically. I don’t know. I guess I lead an interesting life.
But I have an idea! Each time I leave the room in a mess and my wife wants to throw a fit (she eventually does, anyway) I’ll remind her as calmly and offhandedly as I can, that I’m trying to prepare her for the mess a baby will definitely make sometime in our journey together. Ain’t I the most forward-thinking guy ever? If this doesn’t work (I already doubt it will), I'll feign ignorance of the mess, deny ever making it, or just shut the hell up and clean it up.
If at some point you felt this post was nothing but a rant, you’re absolutely right. I have no great wisdom to pass on right now, so I’m doing the next best thing: writing down the words as they come to me. After all, isn’t that how we’ve managed to survive as a nation these past 52 years?
This is coming late, but at least it’s not not coming: Happy New Year peoples. God bless y’all!
Oh, and here’s another poem. Come on, you knew I was going to do that!
Song of the slave.
Since the day I sucked the air
Before I sucked my mother’s breast
I knew what it was to be free
My spirit knew; my body bare
Was free from all entanglement.
I was born free, and so I am.
Though these chains limit my steps
Though this burden break my back
Yes, though your whip must leave a mark
Do not think I’m broken yet
Do not think you’ve caged me in
I was born free, and so I am.
I do not fear an uprising
I sleep in peace, under the open skies
My spirit soars beyond the stars;
My body, a story of many scars
Is left behind, I journey far
You are the slave now, I am free.
22\10\2005.
