"TO DIVEST ONESELF OF MATERIALIST TRAPPINGS IS TO FURNISH THE SOUL INSTEAD."
Showing posts from November, 2005
Twenty minutes after the show you walk into the bar and she’s the only one who waves and squeals your name. And when she does this, she half stands up from her stool. Even so, this reaction to your arrival, it’s got little to do with you. She’s perky in general . You just keep reminding yourself how you’re nobody special—just another somebody she knows. And, with that much assured, you choose to reply with a single wave and a mild, lip-closed smile. You choose—because “between stimulus and response” everyone has the choice— to reply with less than half her enthusiasm. She saw you first because where she sat she was facing the door. The few others who know you and noticed your entrance, they smile, but they don’t make the Big Deal she just made...and thank God for that. You don’t trust attention for attention’s sake. If that makes sense. Hey, sure, if the joke kills, laugh; if the song and dance pleases, clap. Most curtain calls, though, you can barely ever bow. Most curtain calls, you
For three days we sat next to each other for three meals. For all of those meals, and only for those meals, to everyone else, she was my "wife." At first glance, she was: Hot. "Yeah," I thought, "I could be married to that ." However, the more I got to know her, the uglier she became. Only, she's not the one I need to find ugly... The one I need to find ugly treats me, at the very least, with too much professional courtesy. Even so, the one whose attitude sullied her beauty (because she had too much contempt for anyone more fortunate), I said to her, "Nice working with you." It was a formality, what I said. It was also a lie.