in bed last night matt threw one out at me. it was vintage matt. “i think i have brain damage.”
naturally, i did what any supportive girlfriend would do. i laughed. “you do not. don’t be ridiculous.”
“oh no, yeah. i think i do. i’m serious. i think it was all those drugs. i think they gnugh –”
then he trailed off into something unintelligible. i’m pretty sure that was just for effect. it’s true he did his share of drugs back in the day. he was a wild, bad boy. he wasn’t always carpools and mr. responsibility. but i highly doubt he’s reached keith richards territory just yet.
“you don’t have brain damage. i think i would know if you had brain damage.”
“you don’t know! what about the drugs? the drugs, they did something to my brain!”
“look, people do way more damage to their brains just by not using them every day than by drugs. if you take a drug user and your average, lethargic, apathetic human, you’ll not see much difference in their brain makeup. the druggie is just speeding the process along is all. the average guy is doing himself in slowly.”
then he was quiet. i think he lost interest in the conversation and fell asleep. i don’t think he meant it anyway. it was just a throwaway gem. a matt being funny. as matt does.
then, as usually happens, the wheels started turning and i couldn’t shut down the motor. what if we’re just atrophying our brains slowly, ever so slowly day by day just by lack of use? i mean, yeah, we use our brains. to get from point a to point b. to make dinner. white or chocolate milk. the usual. but most of that we could do on auto pilot, really.
what if we’re supposed to be really pushing our brains? i mean, like writing the next great novel. composing awesome symphonies. something. so by not pushing the envelope, by only doing the auto pilot thing, we’re just basically deciding to destroy our brains with drugs, but without the fun of actually getting wasted. it’s just this slow, agonizing going.
thanks, matt! thanks for leaving me with that parting thought before bed! i’ll sleep much better tonight, after i compose this symphony and write this novel and find the cure for cancer, that is.
either that or i’m going to speed it all up and do an acre of blow.
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A Woman's Manifesto
Because a woman’s work is never done.
and is underpaid, or unpaid, or boring, or repetitious,
and we’re the first to get fired,
and what we look like is more important than what we do.
And if we get raped its our fault
and if we get beaten we must have provoked it
and if we raise our voices we’re nagging bitches
and if we enjoy sex we’re nymphos
and if we don’t we’re frigid
and if we love women it’s because we can’t get a real man
and if we ask our doctor too many questions we’re neurotic or pushy
and if we expect childcare we’re selfish
and if we stand up for our rights we’re aggressive and un-feminine
and if we don’t we’re typical weak females
and if we want to get married we’re out to trap a man
and if we don’t we’re unnatural
and because we still can’t get an adequate, safe contraceptive, but men can walk on the moon
and if we can’t cope or don’t want a pregnancy we’re made to feel guilty about abortion
and for lots and lots of other reasons
we are part of the women’s liberation movement.- Joyce Stevens, International Woman’s Day, 1975.
Man Vs. Heart Attack
I am somewhat worried about the dude on Man v Food. He isn’t looking so good these days and putting that food away like that can’t be good for him.
doesn’t blogging count? And I didn’t lose interest in the conversation. I just forgot that we were talking. Or I was worrying quietly that maybe I was just looking for excuses for my stupidity. I mean I’d rather be brain damaged (even by my own bad choices) than just a regular garden variety idiot. Hmm. At least I’m still smart enough to know that I’m dumb. I have to go now. I haven’t put flowers on Algernon’s grave in a few weeks
stupid like a fox, baby.