A Random Image

Jett Superior laid this on you on || October 21, 2004 || 10:53 pm


Almost –nearly without exception– always the things I write start out as an entirely different something than what they end up being; but then the sentiment evolves so quickly that it could be tagged ‘mutant’ quite legitimately. And ba-boom-ba, here are this group of words that really and truly intended to be something Altogether Not What They Indeed Are, but got distracted by the stunning grace of a different emotion entirely.

Is it the themes that change, while the elements don’t ever…or vice-versa, that one always fucks me up. Themes change, the elements never do….or is it the other way around? Do the themes change, but the elements remain static, or have I got it all backwards?

Three different manners in which to ask the same question. That, my friends, is brilliant. Smashing that we have this string of characters we speak or pen and they are so powerful that they could either draw someone closer in toward us (yes, that ‘us’…The Us.) or shove them roughly further away.

There was this girl in my first grade class (the teacher of which was Mrs. Cox, oh She Of The Beige Polyester Couture, may worms eat her eyeballs with great disgust) who pushed my buttons. Her name was Karen, and there was not one thing on God’s Creation that she didn’t know something about. She was a preschool teacher in the making, the way she overexplained everything to the rest of us, who were obviously reasoning-challenged Cromagnon Kids. I didn’t know the term ‘pseudointellectual’ at the time, but I sure as fuck-all felt that fifty-dollar word for ‘sham’ when it ran all up on me in the shape of a crisply-dressed and braided seven-year-old snot.

I had a sense about her, and she stepped all up in it and confirmed her dumb-smartkid status one day when she pronounced ‘etc.’ as ee-TEK. I was all over her in a hopskip second. This was, of course, because I wasn’t quite seven myself and not yet versed in the rule about correcting others’ grammar in a public forum. Oopsies.

I guess Karen weathered my barrage of mockery in heated, embarrassed-kid fashion. We all did it at one time or another, and it is a generational curse: Every wee one that comes down the pike will have that one awful, blazing place in time where they realize that they’re the Ass Of The Moment; hopefully it’ll turn out that that moment will not be a consistent thing in their lives.

I heard a couple of years back that Karen committed suicide amidst the hallowed halls of some Ivy League school that could sue me (in a vigorous fashion) for reparations were they to discover their name perched here. She couldn’t run with the big dogs.

Okay, that last bit was a lie, but maybe you get the message: we never quite know where our words land when we hurl them forth, especially weighted with some form of passion. Careful how you aim.

6 worked it out »

  1. Actually, it is pronounced ee-TEK!

  2. Jettomatika 10.22.2004


  3. ike 10.22.2004

    Where I growed up, it was always pronounced ‘n’stuff.

  4. Jettomatika 10.22.2004

    Me too, Ike, me too.

    Some people just gotta be showoffs.

  5. V. 10.22.2004

    Oh. Nevermind. I appear to have pansied out on you.


  6. Mish 10.28.2004

    After being a waitress for 7 years I try to be nice to all customer service people. Once I called one of my credit cards shortly after I found out my friends dog, and my dogs best friends had been killed and I was a total bitch to the poor lady. I felt so bad about my uncalledfor behavior that I called back to apologize, but this call center was in another state. She did say that they get treated badly all the time and just call it part of the job, but I was the only person to ever call and apologize for being a raving idiot.


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