my friend, Chuck Klosterman, once wrote a short story about the importance of imagining your death, or something to that tune. i do not do that. instead, what i do is imagine some horrific accident or public mauling which leaves me alive but greatly injured forcing people to tell me how happy they are that i am alive and then probably one or two of the males professing: I have always loved you! Be mine. Forever. [I usually decline based on my new found lust for life and cliche carpe diem attitude.]
last night was no exception, of course. often times these "fantasies" occur while I am walking home alone while its dark. i was listening to my ipod and some dude is walking next to me. he begins a conversation. i look at him and feign deafness. he tries to talk again and i put my head down. listen. this song was playing: awesome 90's slow jam! I was in NO mood to be disturbed. The point is (i guess), my mind wandered to a situation wherein this dude got so frustrated with my negligence that he pushed me up against the rod iron fences resulting in the puncturing of my kidneys... I ended up fine, of course, but the days in the hospital afforded me a lot of attention. the most common injury is me falling down the subway stairs resulting in all of my teeth falling out, crumbling, and dripping down my face. No one helps me because they are grossed out and I have a hard time calling 911 since my mouth is bleeding and fucking falling out.
That's what you get.
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