Mixed Bag

Today's post will seem a bit odd. I just went for a swim, which always clears my head, and by "clears my head," I really mean that it loosens the connections between thoughts, so I end up thinking about a number of bizarrely abstract topics. I believe this is called "loosening of association," and is a symptom of schizophrenia.

Anyway, I was thinking about smoking today. I think the only reason I haven't all-out quit yet is because it is one of the only things that legitimizes sitting around outside and doing nothing. See, if you just sit outside in the knife-sharp frigidity and peoplewatch without some sort of secondary accessory, such as a cup of coffee or a cigarette, people think you're crazy. However, if you're smoking or drinking coffee, you are allowed to stare at people as they walk by. I can't drink coffee because it has immediate adverse effects on me, such as insomnia, panic attack and homicidal tendencies. So I smoke cigarettes instead, which is probably a bad idea in the long run. I figure by the time I get lung cancer at age thirty-five, I'll be all wrinkly and jaded, and my life will be pretty much over anyway because I will lack my youthful glow. By then, I'll be ready to die because without looks, what is there in life? So that's why cigarettes are so beguiling. I like looking at people.

As I was walking home from the gymn along Prospect St., a small road that skirts my university, I saw something odd. Since our campus is on a hill, there is quite a steep slope along one side of Prospect that plunges down until it hits the parkway below. This slope covered in raggedy trees, brambles, feral houseplants, and accumulated trash from a million drunken weekends: crumpled Natty Ice cans, empty plastic bottles of generic-brand Polish vodka, used condoms and, perplexingly, a Safeway shopping cart (Safeway is a mile away). Anyway, I was walking along when I saw some footprints in the snow. Normal enough, but here's the strange thing: there was only one set of footprints, coming up the hill from the parkway. I guess this doesn't sound very weird, so you probably have to see it. This is a really steep hill I'm talking about--like, it's the same hill the Exorcist steps are built into, and if you've seen that movie you'll know how steep this hill is.

Okay, whatever. I thought it was weird.

I was thinking about the future, when we'll hit that wave when everybody starts getting married. I guess it'll happen when we're all around like 28-32 years old, which seems really far-off, but I am of the firm belief that time starts getting faster and faster as you get older. Remember how slow years used to pass when you were a little kid? Now they zip by like the speed of light, and before we know it, we'll all have to start using Rogaine and Levitra, and will be watching our kids shoot up like heroin addicts. Anyway, I was just thinking about how weird it will be to watch our friends getting married. Even though marriage is somewhat meaningless these days, it still seems like a huge and irreversible step because, despite the possibility of divorce, you're always going to have been married. You're always going to have a husband or a wife or an ex-husband or an ex-wife. It's going to be strange. Even stranger than going to college because marriage really twists relationships around. It seems like you can't have close friends of the opposite sex anymore because your spouse will think you're cheating on them. Maybe one of his or her prying friends will spot you having lunch or coffee with your best girl- or guy-friend and will tell your husband or wife that you're cheating on him or her, and then you'll have to go home and explain yourself--but then there will always be that nagging little suspicion because your spouse will never exactly know for sure, so he or she will pull it out as arsenal against you every time you have a fight and everything will be weird. I think maybe I'm just being cynical and paranoid.

Also, the inauguration was today, but that doesn't matter so much.

Listening to: "O. K. With My Decay" by Grandaddy