Wednesday, October 04, 2006

Breathing Out So You Can Breath Me In

Occasionally it’s necessary to let out bits of crazy in order to keep from blowing up, much like knocking the press off the boiler (“She creeps…”) keeps the scary old hotel from blowing sky-high.


...today I thought I found one of my old guitar picks but it turned out to be just an old, used band-aid that had been folded up and left to harden...

...after periodically lamenting the fact that I am the primary IT nerd in my ‘lil group of friends, my friends eventually stopped asking for my help… then, last night, my friend asked if I would help him with a minor IT problem this morning to which I readily agreed, being secretly happy to be able to help in my special way. I arrived at his place this morning and found that I had missed him in the shuffle and he was already over at my place… and he had already taken care of his problem himself…

…a while back I offered to tune my friend’s guitar for him using an electronic tuner my good chum Drew had given me. While in the midst of tuning, not one but two strings broke including the high E. Thankfully, it missed blinding me when it streaked upward and outward at the speed of light however it did manage to give me a minor cut on my right hand, drawing a bit of blood. I am now, irrationally, afraid of my friend’s guitar because whenever I look at it now, I get the distinct feeling that having tasted my blood once, it will not be satisfied until it’s able to taste it again…

…having recently lost a bit of weight (and subsequent inches from my waist) I was surprised and dismayed this morning when I saw that it was raining outside and I found I no longer had any jeans that fit…

…during the entire time I was smoking (during my most recent stint as an addict, that is) I was never once sick with a cough or a throat ailment. Now, after having been quit of cigarettes for just over three weeks, I am starting to develop a froggy throat… bleh…

…I am secretly terrified that Bob Woodward may be full of shit…

…whenever I’m in a parking lot and happen to drop my keys on the ground, I’ll always look around before picking them up… this is not a self-preservation habit nor is it one born of vanity, i.e. making sure no one is looking at my bottom in case my pants split open, but rather one of irrational paranoia… you see, whenever this exact situation occurs and I bend over to pick up my keys, I’m absolutely certain a flaming arrow flies through the air directly through the space where my head would be, if I were still standing erect…

…whenever I see a banana peel lying discarded on the ground, I always have to fight back a desire to intentionally slip on it, just to see if a silly noise or a laugh-track will begin playing out of nowhere…


I think that’s enough for a while.
/smile

1 comment:

Unknown said...

sometimes i think the guitar whispers your name

sorry about fixing my it problem...if it helps my computer no longer makes sound and I don't know what to do

 

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