Letters from exile: The essence of evil
The essence of evil is when one is happy and satisfied at the pain and suffering of others, and disappointed at (Edit, after two months: I never ended up completing this sentence. What a tease, my brain. Thought it was going to be a huge revelation)
What's in a man's mind
What kind of woman does the man want? We'll find out today!
She should be happy. Most of the time, not like crazy giggly and happy all the time: that's too tiring for him, and he can't handle that, and besides, that would make him feel bad for not being happy all the time, which would make him feel sad.
She should be sad. As in, like, artsy sad, that inspires her to write weird poetry, and feel bad about orphans, and philosophize about existential shit and stuff. But not too much, or else that would be depressing and scary and the man already has enough people to take care of as it is, and he doesn't want to spend his life trying to cheer up someone else, okay?
She should have big eyes. But not too big, aka, myyy what big eyes you have grandma. A certain person whose last name is shared by many a character from Salman Khan has such eyes. Refer to her for further instructions. On further analysis, she has cute teeth too. Like, are they natural, or does she put stuff to make them shiny white. O man, I want to marrrry herr.
She should have small eyes. Yeahh, like all the cute newar girls in Kathmandu, who never looked at him, and how was it even possible, there was many an unattractive guy in Kathmandu uglier than him for him to get no stolen glances at all. There must be some conspiracy here. Or something.
Artsy. But not overly so. Don't you go crazy when you're looking at sunset after a long day and want everything to be quiet and just close your eyes and take a nap, and she starts talking about life and philosophy and shit and asks you what you want to do in the future, and you want to go all what do you even care, omg dont bother me go away, but instead you tell her that you don't know, haven't thought about it. Obviously, she wants you to ask the same, so you pause for a respectful amount of time before asking her the same damn question, and she goes into this long soliloquy about how it was always her dream for something like this to happen, and all things considered she has made the best possible choices yadda yadda yadda. But now you're half asleep so you smile like you understand but you're secretly asleep.
Logical. She should not be too emotional. So that she can make the right decisions and be successful. But emotional enough that she ignores all the calculations when the man asks her out -- there's a possibility logical thinking may not lead her to optimal outcomes, and that would be bad for everyone and we should not let that happen so can you please tell her that for once she should let her heart speak, and not be a mean ogre and choose love instead for a change instead of whatever petty physical thing she might have chosen? OK OK nevermind, just, just tell her to hang out with me more, goddammit, I'll have to get someone else to try to brainwash her. Yeah, no worries, thanks anyway.
She should be happy. Most of the time, not like crazy giggly and happy all the time: that's too tiring for him, and he can't handle that, and besides, that would make him feel bad for not being happy all the time, which would make him feel sad.
She should be sad. As in, like, artsy sad, that inspires her to write weird poetry, and feel bad about orphans, and philosophize about existential shit and stuff. But not too much, or else that would be depressing and scary and the man already has enough people to take care of as it is, and he doesn't want to spend his life trying to cheer up someone else, okay?
She should have big eyes. But not too big, aka, myyy what big eyes you have grandma. A certain person whose last name is shared by many a character from Salman Khan has such eyes. Refer to her for further instructions. On further analysis, she has cute teeth too. Like, are they natural, or does she put stuff to make them shiny white. O man, I want to marrrry herr.
She should have small eyes. Yeahh, like all the cute newar girls in Kathmandu, who never looked at him, and how was it even possible, there was many an unattractive guy in Kathmandu uglier than him for him to get no stolen glances at all. There must be some conspiracy here. Or something.
Artsy. But not overly so. Don't you go crazy when you're looking at sunset after a long day and want everything to be quiet and just close your eyes and take a nap, and she starts talking about life and philosophy and shit and asks you what you want to do in the future, and you want to go all what do you even care, omg dont bother me go away, but instead you tell her that you don't know, haven't thought about it. Obviously, she wants you to ask the same, so you pause for a respectful amount of time before asking her the same damn question, and she goes into this long soliloquy about how it was always her dream for something like this to happen, and all things considered she has made the best possible choices yadda yadda yadda. But now you're half asleep so you smile like you understand but you're secretly asleep.
Logical. She should not be too emotional. So that she can make the right decisions and be successful. But emotional enough that she ignores all the calculations when the man asks her out -- there's a possibility logical thinking may not lead her to optimal outcomes, and that would be bad for everyone and we should not let that happen so can you please tell her that for once she should let her heart speak, and not be a mean ogre and choose love instead for a change instead of whatever petty physical thing she might have chosen? OK OK nevermind, just, just tell her to hang out with me more, goddammit, I'll have to get someone else to try to brainwash her. Yeah, no worries, thanks anyway.
Things I should definitely not have said
When one said your little cousin was the cutest, one also sort of meant it about you, without meaning to because one will never say such things.
letters from the freezing tundra of northern new england
And once again I'm on the train, to my own middle of
nowhere, the freezing freaking wastelands of northern new england. I pay
no taxes, as I will happily remind anyone who will ask even the least probing questions, but make no mistakes, I am taxed. The alone-ness won't get me -- for your best companion is inside your own head -- but the cold and the dreariness of mediocrity might.
I write this to distract myself from more important priorities of life -- the GRE is closing up on me like the streetcar was on those drunk aussies who were playing chicken with it in new orleans (oh yes, no that's a story!) and I will likely also move away before it's too close to hurt me. I won't win, probably, but if I wanted to win then playing chicken with the metaphorical equivalent of an aging streetcar system of the blues capital of the world wasn't a good idea anyway. The fun is in playing, if I may remind you one more time.
And then what's left to do? They say people go to bars to make friends. They forget that i am already friends with multiple people capable of sustaining 40-hour parties with moderate drinking. It's not the drunks that I want to befriend, nor the kind who go to bars who go to bar to make friends. Since, if you will have realized by now, I am no drunk. So I take it easy, but it doesn't take ME easily.
More on that in the future.
I still have stories from my recent and older travels. Need to get those out stat before I forget.
I write this to distract myself from more important priorities of life -- the GRE is closing up on me like the streetcar was on those drunk aussies who were playing chicken with it in new orleans (oh yes, no that's a story!) and I will likely also move away before it's too close to hurt me. I won't win, probably, but if I wanted to win then playing chicken with the metaphorical equivalent of an aging streetcar system of the blues capital of the world wasn't a good idea anyway. The fun is in playing, if I may remind you one more time.
And then what's left to do? They say people go to bars to make friends. They forget that i am already friends with multiple people capable of sustaining 40-hour parties with moderate drinking. It's not the drunks that I want to befriend, nor the kind who go to bars who go to bar to make friends. Since, if you will have realized by now, I am no drunk. So I take it easy, but it doesn't take ME easily.
More on that in the future.
I still have stories from my recent and older travels. Need to get those out stat before I forget.
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