It is one of those days where I wish I had a porch to lounge about on, sipping tasty beverages until the sun goes down and the crazies come out. Maybe even a few good roommates to have a chat with. Or better yet, a porch swing. A rocking vantage point to watch my neighbor roll in on his purple motorcycle, dressed in the brightest, busiest shirt to have ever existed and will ever exist.
"Can't you hear those cavalry drums
Hijacking your equilibrium..."
Nonetheless, today is a perfect day. One of those days where I just feel as if I am glowing. The assay I run at work results in data after only two hours. The new Bryan Connell* smiles and chats me up. My iPod on shuffle finally grows a binary brain to choose all the songs I want to hear at this very moment. I find new earbuds (what a stupid word!) that actually fit in my ears... and they're pink. People in the bathroom, at the bookstore, at the market are all smiling at me, wishing me a happy day. And I am happy. Especially walking home from work.
"Midnight snacks in the mausoleum
Where the pixilated doctors moan..."
I didn't want to come inside at all upon reaching my roadside stoop, but I have things to accomplish. Little rebellious acts that make me dance on the inside. Like drink my roommate's milk while he's out of town and fart on his couch. Make a new internet dating profile for research purposes only. Eat a family-size macaroni and cheese frozen dinner, by myself, as I watch for the third time Lucy and Kevin** getting married. Masturbate in the daylight. And work on my top secret knitting project. After I wash my hands, of course.
"Carnivores in the Cowloon night
Breathing freon by the candlelight..."
I attribute my improved mental health to cosmopolitans and vacation time. Cosmopolitans, four. Vacation days, two. If you find you have worked yourself up into a giant stress ball of horror, you should take a few days and go visit a friend in a far away place. Or find a fare for fifty bucks and fly to a place you've never been. It does wonders for the skin.
"Coquettes bitch slap you so polite
Till you thank them for the tea and sympathy..."
Navigate your way through unfamiliar bus routes and subway stops. Go to an asian karaoke bar and sing until your throat bleeds and your accomplice pulls a Sarah Silverman*** by having his butt cheeks do backup vocals for Joyful, Joyful Lord We Adore Thee. Watch all three wretched Saw movies - don't let Westley**** fool you, they really are horrifically bad - and follow it up with a reminiscent viewing of The X-Files movie. Don't shower or even change your clothes for three days straight. Think about your college apartment and the stupidly fun things you did while living there, as if you were invincible. Sip mojitos on a patio decorated with Christmas lights, served by a waiter who could be Nate Fisher***** if he were a bartender instead of a funeral director. And finally, on the return trip, "accidentally" touch David Krumholtz at the airport coffee stand.
"Let the handcuffs slip off your wrists
I'll let you be my chaperone..."
It's like seeing the face of god.
*Lustful crush from the college days, infamously seared into my memory for shifting my brain chemistry, causing me to do such naive and ridiculous things as sticking my chest out to entice him to buy a candy bar and leading him on a Valentine's Day scavenger hunt despite him hardly knowing my name. Things ended badly, with tears and emo-like diary entries for months after. This is how I envision this situation panning out. Only this time around, they'll be tears of laughter and sarcastic blog entries. Just for you.
**From 7th Heaven, reruns on ABC Family.
***Toward the end of Jesus is Magic, Sarah Silverman is accompanied by both vaginal and anal harmonies on a rendition of Amazing Grace, followed by Yes's "I've Seen All Good People."
****Hero in black from The Princess Bride, played by dreamy Brit Cary Ewles.
*****Main character, Six Feet Under. For this comparison, I draw your attention to Nate's boyish charms and his impatience and general incompetence.
