Sunday, September 28, 2008
the ironic thing about a major breakup is how, after spending a great deal of time with a person, and forming an extremely close, indelible bond with them, you're expected to hate/loathe/detest that person and forget, or "get over" the bond you shared (ok, fine--that was a little extreme--but it's kind of customary that you at least feel negatively).
it's also ironic and quite strange that the notion of hatred is even an option when you think about all the love that was once shared. like, why would something so horrible even flourish amidst tragedy? it should just be the opposite, even stronger love, on a more segregated, individual basis, that would facilitate both parties' recovery, or even remove the need to recover altogether--simply granting both people the ability to move on with their lives in a linear manner, all the while maintaining the person with whom they shared a relationship as a near and dear friend.
unless the person who instigated the breakup did so with a sharp object or inflicted any sort of harm, a mutual agreement should be the default. i think it should be purely a societally-influenced thing--involuntary emotion and any involvement of the psyche should NOT be an option. we have enough to worry about. to quote jawbreaker, an amaranthine cinematic classic of our adolescence, "life is hard enough without added anxiety." and true that, especially since relationships, are, after all, auxiliary aspects of our lives. they're completely voluntary, and, at the end of the day, an added bonus. they've equally got their benefits as well as their downfalls, and since they're purely elective, why then must their demise cause such despair?
if society can gradually give to acceptance for men fucking other men, then we certainly can alleviate all the hoopla surrounding old-fashioned breakups, and live happier, healthier lives.
who's with me?
Monday, September 22, 2008
so, ok. i'm SO completely over the natural peanut butter thing. you try to do your health proper by purchasing peanut butter not containing hydrogenated oils, and while you may avoid certain heart complications and atherosclerosis, what do you end up with? A MESS! that's what. an oily, messy, smelly, disgusting mess.
for those of you still on the jif, when you purchase a new jar of natural peanut butter (and every time you open it thereafter), you must vigorously stir the viscous peanut mash to reincorporate the separated oil that lies on top. and it ain't easy, kids. oh no. it overflows on the side, covering your fingers, the label and countertop in peanut oil. then you have to really get deep into the butter part to bring it to the top, ensuring uniformity, and the jars are all so damn narrow that this is no easy task! so by the time you've got a fragrant, well-mixed jar of natural peanut butter sitting in front of you, you're so mad at it you're compelled to throw the box of graham crackers it would have complemented across the room and say "FUCK IT!" to the whole operation.
i'm back to jif, and let me tell you--i'd rather die of heart disease brought on by overconsumption of hydrogenated oils than a stress ulcer caused by mixing up natural peanut butter. thanks.
next up--smoking in crowds. ok, i know smokers the world over have rights, not all of them fair, seeing as how they're based on a personal preference, sort of like mothers and hispanic nannies, but once the execution of those rights infringe on my personal space and comfort, the shit's gonna hit the fan.
so today i'm walking through union square market (oft referred to as the 'farmer's market,' although last time i checked scallops and pumpkin bread didn't grow on vines), dodging the rather populous crowd, when i find myself walking into what i believed to be a special effects tunnel in the funhouse at an amusement park. how poorly disappointed was i when i realized it was, in fact, a cancerous crawlspace, smoky as all hell, and in the middle of a crowd. now, even though they're as rare as a treasure trail in chelsea, smoking sections are, in fact, a great way to provide a safe haven for the addicts, and an even safer haven for those protecting their lives and lungs, and often found on the outskirts of any large assemblage of people--not directly in the center. yet the three or so people so merrily puffing on their nicotine sticks threw caution and formaldehyde to the wind, and, unfortunately, our faces, and now we're stuck breathing in their vile air.
WHY IS THIS OK? what if a certain individual had a colon full of toxic air and just decided to drop a big f*rt in the middle of class? would that be ok? sure, it would cause nausea and gross everybody out beyond recovery, but it most certainly wouldn't pose a threat to anyone's health, and that person behind the stench would be the laughing stock of that class for the rest of the year (or their life, even).
so it's all about dirty looks, kids. that's the only weapon we have. and if you happen to smoke, i don't hate--just don't do it two feet from my face.
lastly, i don't think i even have to declare my stand on the whole fur situation
but this weekend, as i sidled through some festival in the west village, i spotted a woman wearing a mangy-looking fur coat, real, no doubt. and i would've cast her my normal look of disgust and dismissed the situation, had i not noticed what she held in her hand--a leash, attached to a dog cowering at her feet, that looked EXACTLY like the COAT! we're talking fur color, texture, irregularity, undercoat--everything. it was like the dog's mother or sister or brother had just croaked and been skinned last week. unbelievable. so i made sure to compliment her choice of coordination.
and that's it for today.