The Subtleties of Life

Apatheticlly Inclined
The other minute the phone rang. I picked it up. “Yeah, is Mr. Sanyal there?” Ah, no. First lie. He was. Laziness to get up, cup my hand over the talking end of the phone and scream “POPS”, took a hold. So, graciously making up for my lie, I told the unknown man I’d be able to take a message. He hesitated. Then he burped, “You have a pen and paper!” ‘Yes’ I said, nodding to ensure the chore had been done. Lie. No pen. No paper. I was still in the chair, as I had yet to turn down TV on the Radio’s “I Was a Lover”. “Can you hear me?” I sure can’t. He begins to relay the numbers to me as I “write” them down, “612, 3 9 3…” ‘Ah, 393…’ “Yup, 0 7 6 5.” ‘0 7 6?’ “0 7 6 5.” ‘Oh, 076 Five.’All right! ‘Mr. Anderson’ I’d be glad not to give this message. No, thank you for wasting my 45 seconds. Now I have to replay “I Was a Lover” for the 4th time (I’ll admit the 1st time was on me, I wasn’t paying attention; 2nd & 3rd time it was on Brittney Spears and Saddam Hussein, respectively, via youtube) because you interrupted me at the best moment of the song with your “message”.

Illogical Thinking
If I ever stay up late night while I’m at home, naturally I get hungry. I’ll shuffle downstairs to the kitchen to see what’s in store, or not. I’ll open all the cupboards, even the ones with plates, in search of a morsel. Tins, nothing. I aint having Progresso soup; aint that hungry! Although… no, open the can, dispense into a pan and heat? Too much work. Microwave! Yeah, but I remember how the soups form those nasty orange, greasy, circley bubbles that remain bound to your lips forever. Ick! The frig! Yogurt, no thank you. No leftovers! Shit I’d eat ‘em. Freezer! Popsicles, awesome. Eeew, why are they all sticky. Expiration Date:06 07 06. No wonder. I’ll leave them for the next hungry bastard who forgot to buy worthy snacks to be consumed at odd hours. No chips, no cookies, no candy! What do I live in, a commune! So I return upstairs, disappointed but not broken. 35 minutes later, a piss. Damn, that piss made me hungrier! Hmmm… I don’t think I checked this cupboard? Oh, wait, I have. My bad, hunger pangs. I led you on there. For a sec there was hope. And then there was… This one? No, pans again. Maybe I didn’t check the can cupboard? I surly wasn’t thorough enough? There has to be something there, I’m certain! Nope. Nothing magically appeared. Popsicles? No, will yourself Marc – no nasty freezer burned, out-dated popsicles. But they’re strawberry? Frig? Milk sure doesn’t look tempting. Fuck! I return upstairs. The TV blares. McDonald’s commercial airs, however, it does not entice! But food! Dare I say, I ventured on another course to squelch Hunger. My insides are laughing. I’m glad I’m relatively not akin to food, or else I’d eat the wall at this point. Daring was I? No, just a little retarded to understand that matter does not just appear into the form of potato chips. I came back like a little kid who doesn’t get what he wants: staring at the ground and rubbing my foot into the dirt. It isn’t fair. Why can’t food magically appear?! If I hadn’t been so steadfast that food had been in the kitchen, none of this would have happened, I thought. Now how I feel how George does in Iraq…