I could have gotten that lint
i am sitting right here, right now, in juli's aunt's dining
room, my laptop humming before me, my rat humming to my
right. i am sitting here and, instead of this journal, i
should be writing a personal statement. you'd think someone
who's written close to 700 journal entries wouldn't have a
problem letting the words flow like a rushing river upon the
page when they are needed for his own exhultation.
but instead i have been sitting here for the past hour, with
only the date on the page and my fingers working as
haltingly and nervously as a young man on his first attempt
at unhooking a bra.
well i'm hoping that by the end of the day i will have
elevated myself to the status of a sultan and my application
will be swept in with such gusto that i get a phone call
from them personally asking me to be their friend.
but i'm not hear to talk about my problem with talking about
myself. instead i am here about how i was sitting in the
subway the other day.
there i was, jiggling ever so gently back and forth as the
subway careened through the tunnels and out into the open.
the sunlight hit me with that pleasant warmth you only
really appreciate when you've spent the past 9 hours in an
office so drastically cooled down it feels like a meat
freezer. so there i was, my neck craning around here and
there to make sure that the sun warmed the top of my head
for as long as possible when my eye caught something really
it was a piece of lint.
one of those fuzzy blue balls (haha, had to say it) of lint.
this piece of lint was lingering on the back of this man's
collar, just sitting there mocking me. it looked so easy to
of course now i should probably let you know what the man
was like to which the lint was attached to via a blue collar
shirt. he was a big man. one of those "built like a brick
shit house" types. he had a tattoo which snaked up from his
forearm all the way around to his wrist. it loooked a a
dragon whose fiery tentricles were snaking their way up his
massive, sausage like fingers.
his neck doubled over his collar at least thrice, so that
the lint was tantalizing close to attaching itself to one of
the many folds of his bulbous head.
he also appeared to be grunting. although i'm not quite sure.
and for some reason that lint was really bothering me. i
think what was really bothering me was how easily i coudl
have removed it.
of course as i sat there, still craning my neck as far to
the left as i could without giving off the "you're probably
regretting choosing this seat aren't you?" vibe to the guy
next to me, i contemplated what would happen if i made an
attempt. i came up with the following three scenarios:
1.) i would get the lint, he wouldn't notice, the heavens
would smile down upon me for my good deed.
2.) i would get the lint, he would notice and, while he
woudl at first be apprehensive, would thank me profusely and
lift me up in a seismic bear hug for correcing his wardrobe
3.) my hand would never make it to the lint as he would
whirl around with that extra-sensory perception people of
his fearsome-ness have acquired and snap my hand off
somewhere above my wrist and then would proceed to beat me
to death with my own hand. he would probably get off for
2nd degree murder claiming self-defense as i made the first
i weighed the possibilites of 2 & 3 with the chance of the
(not so cool) 1 happening. i decided against it.
hm, i wonder if i could put that down for my "persevering in
the face of adversity?" of course i would have had to have
at least tried for the lint.
alright time to try this personal statement.
i am nick.
i am great.