Bradezone

Why is it that every time I accidentally splash water, it all flies directly into my crotch area? It is perturbing. Excuse me if I want to be sanitary and wash my hands or clean a dirty dish. For some odd reason water has this pent-up angst towards me, and it never fails to make its point by giving me a wet patch right where I don’t need one. Then of course I have to be all discreet about it, or attempt to make some joke like, “Well, looks like I’m not quite ready to wear big-kid pants after all!” And no amount of “wiping down” takes care of the problem. It’s basically one of those stupid things I have to wait out. But the whole time I’m thinking, “Just you wait, water. I am so going to enjoy the next time I get to use the commode.”

Another question I’ve been pondering is the role of pineapple. For some reason pineapple has been deemed worthy of inclusion in non-sweet dishes such as pizza and stir-fry. Why does everyone just accept that as a standard reality? You might as well put strawberries or grapes in your stir-fry. Or hey, how about a scrumptious slice of blueberry pizza? Man, forget that. Just because we added Hawaii as an official “state” doesn’t mean we need to put pineapple on everything to show our acceptance. Look, there’s nothing wrong with being a key part of various cakes and ice creams. So come on, pineapple, know your role.

Are you white? Do you live in America? Are you college educated? Then head on over to Stuff White People Like, a brazen and borderline genius blog begun earlier this year by some dudes who know what’s going down. Granted, “white people” actually consists of a smaller subset as intimated by my three questions, but this site pretty much nails its description of the “quest for authenticity” that seems to beset many an unwitting soul.

Get in the car. Plug in the music player. Where will the road lead this time? Today the ebb and flow of thoughts have intensified. This is the escape, but that does not imply freedom. Pursuit is constant; only the role I play varies. It’s time to turn on Violence is Golden by the Scanners…

Now the sun is rising, spreading through the sky
Chase my horizons far away
Carrying the break of day
Chase my demons far away
Chase them far away

I’m tired of talking, I guess. I was in a bind, then I drove up to the fast food window, and the girl had way more joy than I’ve seen from anyone in quite a while. This time thoughts still pushed and pulled. There are a lot of good things still happening—did you just see? Today you saw familiar scenery as you made your way back, but it had a new aspect. Something that’s always there at the beginning, when the mystery is still unfolding. It’s lost gradually; it has to lose that. But sometimes it returns for a spell. When you feel the breeze and the songs are alive, you are close to… Now are you beginning to understand why that feeling of dread balances the joy of the moment? Hey, don’t read into that too much, okay? You’ve at least grasped a little bit about what’s going on, because you didn’t come back to it, you came back for it.

It’s a beautiful day—the best we’ve had in a while.