OK, bitch.
That’s tough talk from a three day loser. Take it for what you will.
I just finished an email to newly in touch old friend in which I describe my recent and record string of fail as an unplanned hiatus or an all out fuck up. Since I’m only accountable to me I’m tempted to light on myself, but that might not be all that productive. So let’s say I go instructional instead. That’s guilt inducing and constructive at the same time.
One of the tenants of the Seinfeldian Chain is that it’s addictive to keep putting little X’s in the boxes. That having a string makes you want to add to that string. It makes you want to avoid a gap like it’s the little red X version of getting pantsed in gym class–speaking of little and red. I am here to say I’ve thought of little else since I started this three day run of empty boxes.
The trouble is creating the gap at all, because once you’ve done that it feels like you just abandoned your power. Imagine a train muscling along the track: car after car after graffiti tagged car. Traffic backs up on either side of the crossing. Drivers put it into P or neutral and set the parking break. They roll down their windows and enjoy the evening air or curse. Either way this impenetrable locomotive commands them to stop. To take notice. To change their pathetic little plans. I am unstoppable! Then the last car rounds up the herd and lumbers by. The steel thunder fades. The blinking red lights abruptly don’t. The ding-ding arms go up. A gap.
“Fuck you train. I won’t be late for dinner now. Ha HA!”
The power resides in the continuity and the connectivity. If you can keep the gaps short the arms stay down. The lights blink. The thunder lulls but doesn’t die. A second locomotive appears on the horizon.
“Dammit. I bought ice-cream at the grocery for shit’s sake.”
Hopefully this entry will be the first of 863 more cars. Hopefully I can melt your vanilla.
I think I can.
Word count: 376