I think that I have been given a gift, much like clairvoyance or telepathy. I think of it as a glimmer, and ability to detect issues or hairline fractures in the surfaces of life. I always seem to get an inkling when something will fail.
My grandmother had something similar, albeit scientifically explainable. She could sense the weather, but that was probably just her joints expanding to the fluctuations in the barometric pressure. My gift is a little different, and I believe that it is firmly rooted in the one true and uniform principle that I have noted in my travels through life. My ability was reared in the acknowledgement that eventually, everything turns into shit or a fuck up.
Call it pessimism, call it negativity, call it a distinct lack of faith. I call it the ability to discern, and it is becoming almost like a game for me. What is going to be the problem with this situation? How is it going to fail? I dissect relationships and events like a botanist, separating stamens and carpels while ignoring the blossom, because the flower is what everyone else sees.
The flowers are facts that begin with phrases like “the majority of,” or “most people.” The flowers are blanket statements that people issue in attempts to normalize, so all can be assimilated into the norm. I resist the norm simply because I am fundamentally outside of its realm.
I knew that my living situation would never work out the minute that the country simpleton came into kitchen hissing from her pale lip less mouth about her intent to brute force her way in. Her loud, country demeanor of mispronounced words and uncivilized loud talking just never rubbed me, well, any way at all.
My car was towed this morning and she told me she would take me to get it in a little while, as she needed more sleep (10:30 am). Then then she asked me for gas money, and complained incessantly in her pig Latin about the cold. Such a miserable human specimen. She plans to move in with her boyfriend after we end our nice little social experiment together. Good night, and good luck.
I have noticed that the fox gets annoyed with me when I go on my rants, labeling me cranky and irritable. I think this honeymoon stage of our relationship is going to end when she realizes I am always irritable, and a big asshole. Not the happy, funny, and mildly inebriated older guy she fashions she has polished out of the coal mine.
I am the coal, and I won’t settle, no matter how tired I get of failure and error. The demon that goads me to perfection will not allow me to calm my sensibilities and cease my complaining.
And another week passes by, another week in the desert. How did Jesus count the days, or did he even care what day it was. He was probably just worried about temptation, that which he did not succumb to, and I in all my multitudes of discipline, have.