Monday, January 19, 2004

Fear and Revulsion in the Cracker Aisle

She kept glancing in my direction as I mulled over what brand of cracker to buy. At least that's what I was telling myself - cute blond. No visible deformations, tatoos or mental illnesses. I decided to risk a second glance, when I saw it, shining like a red light: the ring. So why was she looking my direction?

Then it hit me -- I was talking to myself. This is something I do. I like lists. I make lists constantly. Lists are a cornerstone of my existence. However, when I'm alone, I tend to make lists, and sometimes I mutter them - you know, stuff like "Buy crackers, milk and horse tranquilizers." So it looks like I'm talking to myself.

I like to think it's charmingly eccentric, but apparently there are those who think it's disturbing - like pretty blondes at grocery stores. So my question becomes this -- am I turning into one of those crazy guys who wanders the streets muttering to himself? Well, more than I do now? Should I stop snarling at happy couples walking by arm-in-arm? Should I start shaving and wearing clean clothes?

Nah -- I like being charmingly eccentric. Besides, after awhile, one restraining order is like another: just a piece of paper lining my walls.

So ladies, if you see me wandering around the streets, glancing furtively about and muttering something, it's okay -- I'm pretty harmless, not homeless and I'm employed. I just carry on long conversations with myself. And the voices in my head.

No comments: