who?
september ninth | six fourteen post meridiem
This is a title
1) When I was in Los Angeles a few weeks ago, I witnessed something that is the best argument I've ever seen for the division of labor. Eyez's father and brother came over one morning to help her move. They were both exceedingly nice; they are also both exceedingly intelligent: her bro got something like double the possible score on his SAT, and pop works at some smarty-smart job (and she's no slouch either, as those who read her page know). They brought a big U-Haul truck, and immediately set to work. Unfortunately, "work" consisted of A LOT OF PLANNING. Go back and read that capitalized phrase again. Now, again. You haven't read it enough: please go back and take a look at it one more time. Now you're starting to get a sense as to how much planning was involved in moving Eyez's stuff.
It would have been easy for them to fool you. You could have assumed that the endless repacking of boxes and rearranging of furniture was necessary because it had been deemed so by those of superior intelligence. But, like me, you probably aren't. You've probably moved before and realize that moving is not a science. There's a reason we leave moving to the big, dumb, sweaty guys. What I witnessed was two furious intelligences with too little to focus their energies on: they were too busy, too left-brained, too like, cerebral and shit, man. When moving you've just got to get in the zone and let the furniture kinda go where it wants to. You've gotta get all zen with it. Just let it lie, dude. Trust me; whatever deity it is you worship will make everything turn out right in the end.
2) I've been using the same deodorant for at least two years now. Two deodorants actually; I bought one, then lost it not long after, so I bought another. Then I found the first one. So I've been alternating these two sticks, using them almost every day, and I swear they're replenishing themselves. I know that I was still in college when I purchased them, which means they're at least two years and three months old, but I'm sure it's more than that. In fact, they're so old I think they're starting to lose their effectiveness. The last few mornings, around ten o'clock, I've caught a slight whiff or two of Chzd-stink, and by five o'clock when I get home I'm fermented in my own juices. So tomorrow I'm going to the store to buy a new stick. I feel like I should have some sort of ceremony for the old sticks, since they've held out for so long, followed by a RITUAL KILLING, since otherwise they WON'T DIE and will no doubt continue on, applying themselves to the armpits of dismembered corpses in the local landfill, eventually standing upside down and sliding away on their roll-on applicators until, one dark and stormy night, I'll wake from uneasy dreams, drenched in sweat, and find them peeping in through my window.
AAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!