Mjarc
I finally realized, while staring at my reflection in the window of our rented minivan on a rainy Wednesday afternoon, nine months after the fact, that my tatoos are absolutely permanent (barring any desconstructive surgery). Why didn't this little revelation dawn on me any sooner? Why did it hit me like a basketball to the groin? I remember first blowing my own mind as a small child, contemplating for a few brief seconds the size of the universe, and my part in that gargantuan hemisphere of nothingness. I got dizzy, sat down, and tried to stop thinking about it, but the more I tried to ignore how insignificant I was, the more my mind went back to it. I distinctly remember my mom always telling me not to burp at the dinner table, and asking her what it mattered a few days after the fact. "The Sun's going to swallow the Earth anyways, so why does it matter if I burp at the dinner table?"
The Sun and the Earth Swallowing Business, also as a tot, ended up keeping me awake, staring out the window desperately hoping that I would be dead before that event occured. I remember thinking that I would just jump to Mars upon imminent doom. Of course, if we can get into space, we can surely jump to Mars. No problem. I'll just be first in line. I was an extremely fast bike rider at the time.
The tatoos made me kind of dizzy today, as well. I haven't been in a car and not behind the driver's wheel for a long, long time, and frankly, I've been feeling a bit carsick from time to time. Ask anyone. I love to drive. But, this whole "permanent tatoo" business coupled with the carsickness, tripled with the slight tinge of apartment sickness, and quadrupled with the encroaching lack of clean clothes is starting to bring me down. I've been around my immediate family now for more hours than I care to count. I need a break.
And, this whole suntan business is getting my gourd like never before. What's the deal with this? Do you have to keep a permanent tan to keep getting a tan? If you don't tan, and then try to tan, is it impossible to actually get a tan because you haven't tanned within the last ten years? Is it some kind of wicked Catch 22 that's preventing pale-skinned Midwesterners from getting browned up in time for the winter semester? I want a tan, and I keep thinking that I've snagged one, each night checking before I go to bed. I take off the shirt, stand in front of the mirror, press a finger onto my skin and watch the fingerprint de-fade from white to a light red or dark beige. Every morning I wake up, piss, and go back to the mirror to brush the teeth and am apalled to see that my tan, during the course of one night's sleep, has faded away.
Maybe someone stole it. Maybe there are tan fairies quietly sneaking through the rooms of hotel guests, finding the un-tanned, remarkedly un-remarkable people who want to get tans, but have no way of guarding against the tan fairies. The TF's grab the tans, and quietly sneak out the doors, and leave the tans under the doors of beautiful, previously tanned ladies and gents who've gotten too much sun. I'm not asking for much. Just a bit of sun to freshen up the old looks. I've been a vampire for too long.
I know I said I would stay away, but its late and I can't sleep, and my body is now adjusted to whatever the hell you call this timezone out here, and I needed something to do. I finished my book, quietly watched Saves the Day on Conan (much to the dismay of my brother and sister who were sleeping at the time), and played around with Audiomulch. I was out of ideas. I promise I'll go away now.
I finally realized, while staring at my reflection in the window of our rented minivan on a rainy Wednesday afternoon, nine months after the fact, that my tatoos are absolutely permanent (barring any desconstructive surgery). Why didn't this little revelation dawn on me any sooner? Why did it hit me like a basketball to the groin? I remember first blowing my own mind as a small child, contemplating for a few brief seconds the size of the universe, and my part in that gargantuan hemisphere of nothingness. I got dizzy, sat down, and tried to stop thinking about it, but the more I tried to ignore how insignificant I was, the more my mind went back to it. I distinctly remember my mom always telling me not to burp at the dinner table, and asking her what it mattered a few days after the fact. "The Sun's going to swallow the Earth anyways, so why does it matter if I burp at the dinner table?"
The Sun and the Earth Swallowing Business, also as a tot, ended up keeping me awake, staring out the window desperately hoping that I would be dead before that event occured. I remember thinking that I would just jump to Mars upon imminent doom. Of course, if we can get into space, we can surely jump to Mars. No problem. I'll just be first in line. I was an extremely fast bike rider at the time.
The tatoos made me kind of dizzy today, as well. I haven't been in a car and not behind the driver's wheel for a long, long time, and frankly, I've been feeling a bit carsick from time to time. Ask anyone. I love to drive. But, this whole "permanent tatoo" business coupled with the carsickness, tripled with the slight tinge of apartment sickness, and quadrupled with the encroaching lack of clean clothes is starting to bring me down. I've been around my immediate family now for more hours than I care to count. I need a break.
And, this whole suntan business is getting my gourd like never before. What's the deal with this? Do you have to keep a permanent tan to keep getting a tan? If you don't tan, and then try to tan, is it impossible to actually get a tan because you haven't tanned within the last ten years? Is it some kind of wicked Catch 22 that's preventing pale-skinned Midwesterners from getting browned up in time for the winter semester? I want a tan, and I keep thinking that I've snagged one, each night checking before I go to bed. I take off the shirt, stand in front of the mirror, press a finger onto my skin and watch the fingerprint de-fade from white to a light red or dark beige. Every morning I wake up, piss, and go back to the mirror to brush the teeth and am apalled to see that my tan, during the course of one night's sleep, has faded away.
Maybe someone stole it. Maybe there are tan fairies quietly sneaking through the rooms of hotel guests, finding the un-tanned, remarkedly un-remarkable people who want to get tans, but have no way of guarding against the tan fairies. The TF's grab the tans, and quietly sneak out the doors, and leave the tans under the doors of beautiful, previously tanned ladies and gents who've gotten too much sun. I'm not asking for much. Just a bit of sun to freshen up the old looks. I've been a vampire for too long.
I know I said I would stay away, but its late and I can't sleep, and my body is now adjusted to whatever the hell you call this timezone out here, and I needed something to do. I finished my book, quietly watched Saves the Day on Conan (much to the dismay of my brother and sister who were sleeping at the time), and played around with Audiomulch. I was out of ideas. I promise I'll go away now.
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