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Oh, Sanity!
30 April 2013 04:53 am“To keep sane is not an easy thing to do,” I mumbled to myself, just before placing my underwear in my freezer, along with two of my three remote controls (putting in the third, that would have been mental).
After I was done, I started writing a letter to NASA, explaining why I am planning to withdraw myself from participating in the Mars mission (apparently it is forbidden to take coconuts along, how on earth would I then be able to make audible imitations of a horse’s hooves to entertain the crew and, most importantly, myself?) and adding that I’d probably be okay to go along on an interstellar mission, but on the condition that they add a distillery to the spaceship (gin or whiskey, they’re free to choose).
“I won’t let you defeat me,” I whispered at the guy in the mirror, giving him an unconvincing kiss, after which he seemingly got enraged and attempted to punch me through the glass. Luckily, I was prepared and in a swift reflex, all we ended up doing was giving an extremely potent fist bump. Sure, it shattered the glass and some pieces ended up in my armpits, but that would hardly be categorised as a defeat in the so-called “real world”.
“Why am I...?” I wrote in on Google, but I soon forgot what I was going to ask, as the machine offered a few alternatives and decided to go with “Why am I not a kangaroo playing the banjo?” I admit, it wasn’t exactly the first thing that came up, but it was close enough. The answer was as shocking as it was meaningful.
Busy as this day ostensibly already had been, the clock was striking 4:21 AM, and birds were already chirping away. “TOO FUCKING SOON!” I cried out to the indifferent ceiling, and I put on my widest pair of trousers and my scarecrow bucket (a bucket with holes cut out for the eyes) and I ran up to the nearest tree to where the birds’ tweets were coming from, and then I started tweeting aggressively, “TWEET FUCKING TWEEEEET! AAAAHHHHHH! CHIRP-CHIRP-CHIRP!”, yelling “How do you like it now?!” after it. Upset, they flew away and I retreated to my cave.
I adopted the foetal position, tightly clenching my arms around my knees and tried to think of a lullaby to make me doze off into a safe dark night of sleep.
Nothing happened... No lullaby, no sleep, no sound, not even time passing! Had I finally chased it all away? Was this the single most blissful moment of perfect stillness?
Finally here after millions of years of waiting?
Just my luck that I had to be naked for this. A perpetual flasher, that is how I will end up through eternity.
Still... could have been worse, I could have been a cattle farmer delivering a calf, imagine doing that for eternity!
(At least his hands won’t be cold... That’s the glass being half-full, right there!)
After I was done, I started writing a letter to NASA, explaining why I am planning to withdraw myself from participating in the Mars mission (apparently it is forbidden to take coconuts along, how on earth would I then be able to make audible imitations of a horse’s hooves to entertain the crew and, most importantly, myself?) and adding that I’d probably be okay to go along on an interstellar mission, but on the condition that they add a distillery to the spaceship (gin or whiskey, they’re free to choose).
“I won’t let you defeat me,” I whispered at the guy in the mirror, giving him an unconvincing kiss, after which he seemingly got enraged and attempted to punch me through the glass. Luckily, I was prepared and in a swift reflex, all we ended up doing was giving an extremely potent fist bump. Sure, it shattered the glass and some pieces ended up in my armpits, but that would hardly be categorised as a defeat in the so-called “real world”.
“Why am I...?” I wrote in on Google, but I soon forgot what I was going to ask, as the machine offered a few alternatives and decided to go with “Why am I not a kangaroo playing the banjo?” I admit, it wasn’t exactly the first thing that came up, but it was close enough. The answer was as shocking as it was meaningful.
Busy as this day ostensibly already had been, the clock was striking 4:21 AM, and birds were already chirping away. “TOO FUCKING SOON!” I cried out to the indifferent ceiling, and I put on my widest pair of trousers and my scarecrow bucket (a bucket with holes cut out for the eyes) and I ran up to the nearest tree to where the birds’ tweets were coming from, and then I started tweeting aggressively, “TWEET FUCKING TWEEEEET! AAAAHHHHHH! CHIRP-CHIRP-CHIRP!”, yelling “How do you like it now?!” after it. Upset, they flew away and I retreated to my cave.
I adopted the foetal position, tightly clenching my arms around my knees and tried to think of a lullaby to make me doze off into a safe dark night of sleep.
Nothing happened... No lullaby, no sleep, no sound, not even time passing! Had I finally chased it all away? Was this the single most blissful moment of perfect stillness?
Finally here after millions of years of waiting?
Just my luck that I had to be naked for this. A perpetual flasher, that is how I will end up through eternity.
Still... could have been worse, I could have been a cattle farmer delivering a calf, imagine doing that for eternity!
(At least his hands won’t be cold... That’s the glass being half-full, right there!)
