Day 343: I’d Rather Have Godzilla Come On A Weekday [Friday Thoughts W/ TeeCoZee]
Good Moleman. Hey Clinton, I told you to shave those sideburns! Make me! It’s Friday, August 27th, 2 Thousand 20 One. The weather in Astoria is 86˚ & Pantone 7450 and somewhere, somebody is trying to dig a hole. No matter how much dirt they dig up, it doesn’t seem to get any deeper. The humidity certainly isn’t helping, either. They can hear cicadas in the distance and the assorted crickets. They’re laughing at them. Not because they can dig a hole better, but because they don’t have to worry about such humanly nonsense. This always seems much easier in the movies. They struggle at first, get the job done and go home dusty to shower off and brood at the dinner table. It looks so damn easy. Little do they know, in most comedies, hole digging is much more difficult. You see, they were trying to dig a Drama/Suspense hole, but they ended up digging a comedy hole. And me? I don’t bother with holes. I just burn shit I need to get rid of. I find that it not only gets the job done, but it’s also a good excuse to have a beer. I also have some things on my mind…
– Every weekend, subway cars park on the middle track outside our apartment. I was staring at one last weekend and a thought arrested me: what if Godzilla came? He’d probably pick that train up. Godzilla loves doing shit like that. It’s his calling card. It’s even mentioned in his unofficial theme song. Godzilla loves picking up subway cars like Garfield loves lasagna: quite a bit. So I played out the scenario in my head. Let’s say Godzilla does come to Queens and just so happens to stroll down my block. He would see the quietly parked N Train and pick that motherfucker up. But what does Godzilla do with things after he picks them up? He throws them. Considering the girth and limited arm range of the beast, I would say that there’s a 25% chance that he’s yeeting that train directly into my living room. After that, I surely would no longer have a living room, nor would I have a face. That would be a really inconvenient way to live just because Godzilla got bored. Now, we know that it’s eventually going to happen whether we like it or not. But when Godzilla does come to the city, I really hope he does it on a weekday. Although my living room is filled with train memorabilia, I wouldn’t want it full of train.
– I get really bothered by sentimental commercials. Specifically, the ones that implore us to make a “memory that lasts a lifetime”. It’s such a played phrase that we tend to not even notice it. But when you really think about it, don’t all memories last a lifetime? Memories don’t really die. If you forget a memory, was it even a memory to begin with? In my opinion, a memory becomes null and void the second you forget it. Because it’s as if it never existed and for all you know, it didn’t. How would you know if a memory didn’t last a lifetime? You don’t. Because a forgotten memory isn’t a memory. I view a memory as something that should always be in a current tense. I don’t refer to April 18, 1998 as “today”, but it surely was “today” at one time. Recalling a memory is the same way. The second you forget a memory, it loses its label. So therefore, if you have a memory and you always consider it to be a memory, then all memories last a lifetime. Or at least the good ones do. Was that my original point? I don’t remember.
– I woke up before the crack of dawn today. I wasn’t happy to do it, but I did it anyway. I’ve always had a bad relationship with mornings, more specifically, working during them. I’m not sure what the cause of it was, but every time I opened the store, I would get sick to my stomach. My skin would dry up, I would always feel dehydrated no matter how much water I drank and I just couldn’t gain an appetite whatsoever. It got to the point where I started to outright refused to work before 10 AM. The plan worked for several years, until this morning. I was caught in a hard place, I owed someone a favor, I had to open the store no matter how sick and disoriented it made me. And much to my chagrin…nothing happened. I stayed hydrated, my skin felt fine and my stomach did nothing. I had all of my mental capacities and I left work feeling like a genuine human. And then I actually enjoyed the time I spent at home in the afternoon. It kind of felt like I had another day off. This upsets me greatly. Now that I know I can do it, I’m going to start getting suckered into morning shifts all the time. Soon, I’m going to become that old fogey that goes to bed at 10 every night. I’ll have to give up on the Dodgers because they always play past my bedtime. I’ll lose whatever few friends I have left as I spend my evenings winding down with a cup of tea. I’ll pass the time sitting on my balcony, staring at trains and watching out for Godzilla. Fuck. I don’t wanna be old! Out of protest, I’m sleeping in until 11 for the rest of the week. That’ll teach those assholes to make me open the store! Pah!
But really, I wouldn’t mind another opening shift. FUCK!
– Try this trick over the weekend: Eat some liver & onions. Join me in Old Fogeydom.
Have a geriatric weekend, everyone!