Clueless as me

That little thing my sis is propping up is my lil niece and the following what she had to tell me.


What's those? My feet? That’s nice. And that? My bottoms? That’s nice. Look, there’s my middle. That’s nice. I’ll call it a “no-mack”. No, no, that’s not nice. I know, I’ll call it a “stomach”. Yes, that’s nice.

Oh, my finger is in my mouth. Yo, yum. Very nice. Does the next finger taste as good as the first finger? Why, yes, yes indeed. Very pleasant. Now let me try the whole hand... Yumm.. Even better.. okay this hurts...

 And there’s Uncle. He’s nice. Behind him is a light, small and round, looking over him, over his, his..... “shoulder.” Shoulders are nice. They protect and they support. Also I can pivot myself on it.

I’ll call the ball a “bulb.” Yes, that’s very nice. Very nice. I want the bulb. Let me reach for it and maybe I can refract the light from my nails… wait, is there a nail on each finger? And why did I call them “nails?”. Oh well, that works. Wow, there’s one on each finger. But on each hand? Wow. Brilliant. How nice. And on my big finger, too? Yes, there it is. I’ll call it a “thumb”. Is there a big finger on the other hand, too? Aha, there is. And they move too! Wow. How nice.

Look, a dust speck. And another. It’s floating over the many intricate tapestries of the space time continuum. Lets stare at them. Pretty specks.. Lots of specks. And there’s my stomach again. Hmmm…. There’s my feet. Hey, Uncle’s feet. I’ll eat them. Ummmm, very nice. I’m tired of eating. I think I’ll “votit”…. No, “bomit”…. No, er…. I got it! I’ll “belch” on his feet.

Ah! Very nice. No, where was I? Oh yes, the bulb. Wait, there’s the floor! And its tiled. What a nice color. Are there any more? Hmm, yes there are. And there’s mommy. Maybe I can eat her feet. Wow, look at that paper….. it has a nice design. Does my butt have nice designs? Mommy must think so, she spends so much time putting the paper on it.

That’s nice. Oh, my rattle toy. Sounds are nice. Colors are nice. And uncle's reaching for me! Breathe hard, Anya! Wave your arms and pump your legs. Give him that half-tooth goofy grin! He’s taking me, I’m rising. Oh, look there’s a dust mote on his nose. Wow. He’s squeezing me. Ah…….. how nice!

Of Marxist equalisers and bingeing

The room was still spinning when I woke up, and I couldn't find that third saridon tablet I'd thought to lay out...you know...just in case. I drank last night. Much more than I needed.... Ok it was worth it, in the end I had a good time with good people. Today would have been perfect if I could have stayed on the couch all day, but now it's time to mentally gear up for going back to work. And the breakfast I just ate really sucked.

Am I an alcoholic you might ask? No, absolutely not. Alcoholics go to meetings. I, my friend, am a drunk. But then who doesn't like to go out after work and blow off some steam over a few cocktails after The Man has spent the last 10 hours of the day winding up. Apparently there are a lot I've come to learn.

However, alcohol is not a Machiavellian end unto itself sans the means, it's just the Utopian end. It's what the proletariat use to stop remembering how deplorable their lives are and what the bourgeoisie use to remind themselves about the greatness of theirs. It's a social conduit that unites people from all walks of life and reminds us that "hey, we're all in this together, let's get bombed and enjoy each other. "

In other news I'm thinking about breaking free from the chains of compulsive eating. My entire life, I've eaten compulsively; I either overeat compulsively, or under eat compulsively. My relationship with food has been built upon a foundation of obsession, compulsion, fear, loathing, and co-dependence. It is not a healthy one. In fact, I'd guess that it fits in somewhere with the types of mangled, hideous relationships that HBO plays thursday nights. I am constantly thinking about what I will eat next. I'm amazed by how much I've accomplished in my life, considering how much of my brain power is dedicated to thinking about food...eating it...not eating...why I can't eat it...why I want to eat it...where was I, again?

Damn, I'm an hour overdue for work.

Hic !

i seem to recognize your face
haunting, familiar, yet i can't seem to place it
cannot find the candle of thought to light your name
lifetimes are catching up with me
all these changes taking place, i wish i'd seen the place
but no one's ever taken me
hearts and thoughts they fade, fade away...

-Pearl Jam