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Thursday, December 27, 2007

Typical

I dabble in contrarianism. Amongst a bevy of unscrubbed hippies, I lust for shirt and tie. In the midst of Marley, I choose Bach. I sheared my dome just to scream "long-haired freaks!" at my classmates. If intelligence ever flies into fashion, I fear I might trade my cortex for duct tape.

Apparently I grossly overestimated my idiosyncrasies. I thought I was aberrant, yet in my new surrounds I find myself consistently outclassed in every area of deviance. The competition is fierce: poop stompers, perverts, public masturbators, lepers, yokels, anarchists, flibbertigibbets - professional weirdos. For a critic of the heteroclitic, it's utter fantasy. But for the up-and-coming kook, it can prove daunting.

I have decided not to compete; my heart and my achy knees are telling me to abstain. This is undoubtedly the wiser approach. Enamored with its logic, I gave an effusive declaration to my counterpart on the plane, a nervous saxophonist with ominously dark eye-bags. "There's no need for it, just compete with yourself." It sounded good. I was convinced. Little did I know what a difficult opponent I would become!

MYW at 9:57 AM

2comments

2 Comments

at February 21, 2008 at 9:08 PM  Anonymous said...

Good thing intelligence will never be fashionable.

 

at February 22, 2008 at 9:56 AM  Anonymous said...

good luck figuring out what it is anyway.