07 June 2008


I had a thought today that nearly rattled me to my core. I was stuck in typical Chicago traffic, reluctantly using my air conditioning due to the toxic levels of humidity in the air, and I was noticing the gas prices. $4.30 here, $4.45 there. And I realized that I was making mental notes of how the gas prices shifted. And then I realized that I knew where to get the cheapest gas. And then I thought, "Well, if I really want cheap gas I could make the 3 hour drive to Indianapolis and pick it up there." Commuting for gas? No, no this isn't good. I thought like a true American, only we would come up with such contradictory solutions to problems. Commuting for gas. Yes, the end is near.

In a brief moment of clarity and illumination I stumbled over my tragic flaw as a man and as a perpetuater of the human race. I am not a hopeless romantic. Nay. I am instead drawn to women that have attained or exude some form of maturity or poise that I have yet to attain myself (and may never attain). Its a shame. Ever the tragic optimist, though, I'm sure one day someone will come along who is mature enough to cultivate my splendid genes into some future-full proto-human.

Ironicality, anyone? I am by no means a militant nutrition junkie, but I make more healthy choices that not I think. I also run an average of 10 miles a week. I work outside and spend most of my day making sure the excrement doesn't hit the air-conditioner at my local pool. I have high cholesterol, apparently. TF??

Indiana Jones survives an atomic blast in a 1950s refrigerator. Bad ass. He also, apparently, perpetuates stereotypes of incompetent Pre-Colombian Mesoamericans. Hey! People! Before we go out of our minds and look to extra-terrestrials and Atlantians to explain marvelous works of art, let's make the logical conclusions. Just because we cannot recreate these skulls in laser-guided machines within a 10 minute window, doesn't mean its impossible. It just means we're impatient self-righteous bastards who still refuse that ever-fleeting conclusion. What was it again. Oh, yeah. Logic.

I was watching CNN in the morning, because I'm a masochist. They covered (in the utmost brevity) a story of a 3rd grader who performed the heimlich in his school cafeteria. They covered it, went to a commercial, mentioned that Hillary still hadn't called it quits, went to a commercial again, and covered the 3rd grader story again. I have never pushed an on/off button with such frustration and intensity in my life.

I'm in desperate need of one of my treasured and captivating many-houred conversations into the wee hours of the morning.

In about two weeks I'll be half a world away, in peaceful and insane bliss with a group of archaeologists, waking up to a rooster at 5:30 am and spending my day on a mountain.

1 comment:

Lesley said...

As I read this last post, the saddest of thoughts entered my conscious: "I know not when I last saw Jon Irons." And I frowned with a teary eye. You are missed!

It is folks like you and I who need weeks of your closing paragraph to deal with the monstrosities of the opening. Fulfillment will be yours; maturity and poise are in mass abundance already--don't forget it.