Saturday, August 12, 2006

Colored Socks


I was gonna post about my love of horror movies. And I started that post, but it got muddled in adjectives. So it let it sit still, and settle itself.

Then I was gonna write about rolling on a gurney down the hospital corridor to an operating room, where doctors with mask on once cut into my spine. I had already written about this once before, just not in depth, like I would have liked to. Still, I didn’t want to retread on old topics, so dumped the idea.

Then I thought maybe I could write about tonight, and the hip hop party I need to attend. How it’s a political move, and how I hate these kinds of things. How I hoped there would be free drinks, how I hoped i didnt have to stay too long. It seemed petty though, when i condisdered it later, fingers on the keyboard, working out the cadence. I might still write about it, but many, many hours from now; when I'm in a more objectionable mood.

I almost began a post about my penchant for colored socks these days, and how white tube socks feel strange and awkward to me, even though I wore them all the way up until a few years ago. I was going to explore the relation of that sudden transformation in wardrobe to how I’ve aged, or even, more simply, observe how vain and fashionable I’ve become, to where if I'm to cross my legs I want even my ankles to have a sharp spark of character to anyone who might be looking. But I decided instead that that was boring, so I scrapped the idea. Dismissing it completely.

I was going to post about the time a started on Saturday night with two lines of speed and a a few pints of Guinness Stout, and how that went on through to Monday, when I kissed a girl grinding on amphetamine and then later kissed a guy high on ecstasy. And how it didn’t end until Wednesday night, and I how I didn’t realize this until Thursday morning. But I wasn’t in the mood to relive my past, so I decided to save that entry for a later date.

I thought of ranting about cell phones that double as walkie-talkies, and in particular an episode on a bus one night while crossing from one side of Brooklyn to the other. A girl was holding an insufferably mundane conversation about the size of her jeans and the skimpy portions of fast food drumsticks and a guy that owed her money and a birthday party she was glad she missed, all on the walkie-talkie feature of her cell phone. So everyone on the bus had to hear her loud, excruciatingly boring, garbled conversation, and stew, while annoyed to no end. And how no one did anything to shut her up, they just sat there staring forward, waiting for their stop. Then I figured even thinking about it irritated me, so why attempt to memorialize in draft? It wouldn’t be any good as words floating around on the internet, just as it wasn’t in real life.

Then I saw a clip of Morningwood performing on Letterman, and was inspired to write about the front woman of the band, Chantel, and how she expired any hopes I had of finding an original rock singer on Rock Star Supernova. She had a thunderous presence, and seemed to effortlessly sweat rock in every jerky hip swivel she made. She had an uncontrolled fire, a shitty display of art, and a swagger that would topple large financial headquarters. Then I realized the music was too immediate, and that it wouldn’t last one month in rotation, so I decided to listen to “Gigantic,” by the Pixies instead.

Finally, at some point, I decided to just write something no matter what it was, even if it was about post I didn’t write at all. And so I did, and this is what you get. It’s all I have, so you’ll have to spread it all over your toast, up into every corner, thinning out the middle a bit, and then eat it. Hope it taste good. Enjoy.

****************************************************************

So yeah. This clip stars Batman, Abraham Lincoln, The Power rangers, George Bush, Godzilla, Aaron Carter, and too many more to name. Its called "The Ultimate Orgy of Homosexuality" and it lives up to its name and then some. If you dont watch it, a baby unicorn will ram its horn up your ass. I know, at first it sounds kinda cute, but after a while, it hurts like hell. Trust me.

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Creative Commons License
:gray matters: by jkg is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Based on a work at downtownalleys.blogspot.com.