My mind is like a pick-a-path novel. You know those books as a kid where you get to the end of the page and it says “Turn to page 50 if you want to go into the cave; Turn to page 79 if you want to run away from the dragon like a little girl”.
Example:
This morning i was walking to the station. You know those times when you smell something, someone’s BO or some dog poo or something. So you look around and you spot the culprit – The big hairy man with pits under his arms, or the steaming pile of crap next to the tree. So you move on, safe in the idea that it is someone else and not you. Then you walk a little bit further and you get the same smell again. You look around, and that same bloke is not there, nor is the steaming pile of crap. Was it me then? And you start to have doubts. Then i remembered when i was younger i always wanted to screw with people by putting some sort of object that smelled, actually inside their nostril when they were sleeping, so that when they woke up they could smell the smell but not know where it was coming from. They’d be looking all around like a dog chasing their tail and could never find it. Like imagine if you put that little black stuff from the corner of your toe nails just inside their nostrils. That stuff reeks. And it never goes away. But then i figured that it might be like working in an abattoir, and eventually you would just get used to it, so i wouldn’t really get the value for the joke. Then i realised i was nowhere near to where i began the story. I had even gone off on a tangent from a tangent. I remembered once i tried to look up what a tangent to a tangent is called – in mathematical terms – cause i’m nowhere near a diligent enough student to have remembered that from school. I opened up google but went off on a tangent and began looking up other stuff before i got a chance to look up the answer. Now that’s irony Alanis.
So i thought it might be a good time to share this with other people. Just so they might get a feel for what it is like for me to think about stuff. I don’t know where it will go, it just goes. So i tried to recall how it started. Here was my second run through:
Ok there was the part about the smells, god i hope it wasn’t me but i can’t think of what else it would be? Wouldn’t it be funny if you put something really smelly inside someone’s nose and they could smell it all day – oh wait, that’s what i wanted to do as a kid. Why didn’t i do that? Oh yeah it would be like working in an Abattoir. Do i know any funny stories about Abattoirs? I bet there was a simpsons episode. Why do we use the word abattoir? It’s clearly French? Why not use Slaughterhouse, it’s American. We hate the Americans far less than we hate the French. I might use Schlachthoff. Ha! I know the German word for Slaughterhouse. Only cause of the place at Wiesbaden for concerts. Those gig’s on the weekend were great. I still have to write about them. What were the funny parts? …and then my mind sort of imploded and went to this grey numbness.
It started out the same, but just goes in a totally different direction. Same stimuli. At some point i decided to go into the cave to slay the dragon, about the time of the abattoir. Maybe i should have run away.
Consider yourselves cheaters. You just kept your finger in the page and had a peak at page 50 AND page 79. Both were kind of disappointing really. Maybe you should consider reading something else…
Tags: Alanis, Death To All But Metal, Pick-a-path, Schlachthoff, Steel Panther, Tangents