Skip to main content

Smarmy-Mouthed A-hole


You know it’s summer when… Morgen locks her keys in her car. Yes, three times in one year, and you’d think that I’d make copies of my car keys, especially after losing them among thousands of white rocks  on a beach while camping. But no, I’m a glutton for punishment and like to test my father’s patience. And so I suffered by waiting anxiously in the sun, burning my legs, and cringing in fear of upriver-men and assorted Mexicans. (Note: my profile states that I become perturbed when people take my sweeping generalizations too literally—I consider racial comments to be sweeping generalizations.) I walked home in new sandals and have some bitchin’ blisters.

Today was another nail in the coffin as far as my feelings toward men go. I hate men. I hate women. But I like people. For every man that licks his lips at you, another asks if you want him to wait with you until real help arrives. Yesterday, T-Mobile man broke my heart trying to sell me a phone after asking if he knew me, if I was from B.C., and that he liked my Hello Kitty shirt. I bought a Diet Coke and the man behind the counter did not drop the fifty cents into my palm, but rather grabbed my hand and placed the change. As I pulled out into traffic, another man did not yield to my reversing-ness and pulled a machismo maneuver for my parking spot. He threw a “Little girl, I forgive you because you are cute. Next time, don’t follow the law, yield to me”.

I am just as guilty. I played stupid today when I locked my keys in my car. Being forgetful happens to everyone, but if you’re a girl, you better play the part or else no one will help you. I feel very conflicted about this. Did I mention that I also hate women? If a woman refuses to walk through the door because a man opened it for her, I’d like to kick the shit out of that woman. But if I’m at a four-way stop and it is obviously his turn to go, and yet, he waves me on…I reach for the gun.

Morgen is not a boy’s name, it’s mine.
6/20/2007

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Knowledge Versus Experience

“The only source of knowledge is experience.” –Albert Einstein I sit in class and hear the unsure tittering of my classmates in response to the esoteric allusions to John Cage’s 4’33”, “Bartleby the Scrivener”, and The Lady from Shanghai . There is considerably less waving of the hands, shouting “Pick me! Pick me! I know the answer Mr. Prichard!” We sit in silence, and every once in a while—after severe awkwardness—someone will posit a theory, a theory so ambiguous and well, theoretical, that it circumnavigates all scrutiny due to its pure unintelligibility. Anything goes when you sound smart. The more books you’ve read, the more names of artists you’ve memorized, the more you feign aficion for Tom Waits or Guilluame de Machaut, the better your professors will love you. Memorizing works and quotes and formulas invented by others is only one aspect of becoming a seasoned intellectual. Limitless and instantaneous access to information via the internet, radio, television, p...
Post a Comment
Read more

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I sometimes think that happiness is a personal responsibility. But what happens, then, if you can’t figure out what makes you happy? They are fleeting moments cushioned between the mundane and obscene. If I had to describe happiness regarding the big picture, abdicating all of the material pleasures life can offer, it’s merely to be understood. For me, art, and relationships--romantic or not--tend to be the main geyser for such a feeling. When I’m understood, my existence is validated. When your existence is validated, it temporarily quells the sometimes dormant, sometimes active yearning to know why in the fuck we are here. I think about my existence so far… I am navigating the path of the American dream. Subscribing to this path, I feel, sometimes, is an addiction to the illusion of stability, when life really comes down to chance. Or does it? I feel sickened by how much of my knowledge is theoretical. How can I understand ...
2 comments
Read more

"Where do you see yourself 5 years from now?"

It’s been too long since I’ve written. I definitely feel corroded synaptic connections. I have been getting reacquainted with myself lately—with the person I was before I had to build a wall to dart about behind, like a meerkat, shooting arrows of cynicism from the safety of my hate turret. I have come to realize the existence of a fortress in my heart—and like the natives who could not see the Spanish ships approaching shore, I have been in complete fear and utter disbelief of its presence. My mission is to see with eyes unclouded by hate and venture out into this wild, wild world. The only constant is change—therefore, the future is science fiction, right? Five years ago I wouldn’t have believed the present. Would you have? Take a minute to gnaw on that. The things that I have experienced over the last 5 years, both good and bad, would be too inconceivable. I would have told you, exhaustively, however, about my desperation for the tangible: I want to live somewhere s...
Post a Comment
Read more