Keep My Words

To say that I am very excited about this weekend is a massive understatement.

Also, Rona left for Greece today.  I was supposed to go with her, but that changed when I quit my job.  I think it was she and I who were talking recently about people we went to high school with, now on Facebook and married with children.  A less than desirable situation for me, but those people seem comfortable.   “Maybe we’re not ready to be comfortable,” she said.

I agree with that statement on the grounds that it is impossible for me to be comfortable as long as the mechanics in my head remain a complete fucking mess (for lack of better words).  However, and although my feelings on the matter could change, I don’t think being married with children will ever be my idea of contentment.

In any case, those who know me well know that I have little patience with children.  (I also have a hard time tolerating pets.)  Months ago RLD and I went to the Mütter Museum in Philly.  They have an amazing collection of deformed fetuses.  Additionally, the museum boasts a large collection of skulls, cataloged drawers containing 2,000 objects extracted from people’s throats, and a set of sliced sections of the human head.  I was most impressed with the fetuses.  Afterward, we went out to eat.  There was a child at the table behind us making various irritating noises that children often make.  “I like them better when they’re in jars,” I commented.  RLD shushed me.  And he laughed.

Aside from that, I saw another dead bird last night at Prospect Park.  Change.  The other day I was talking with one of my favorite people to converse with, Ian (a.k.a. Ferdinand Bardamu).  He is also the character “Boy” in December 3rd, 2008 at 1:49 p.m.. I asked him what he thinks the most normal thing that people do is.  He said change.

My priorities are changing.  Maybe that’s what this bird died for.

Prospect Park bird (above)