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2003-08-28 - 12:28 p.m.

Three Speed

In an ideal world, "3 Speed" by the Eels would be playing faintly in the background as you read this.

First Gear

Did you ever wonder if maybe Jesus was some kind of space alien with superior alien powers, kind of like Superman? Like some aliens came one night and just dropped him off knowing he'd grow up to be a superhero one day? Hell, it makes perfect sense to me: after all, wasn't there some weird star hovering in the sky that night, and people from all around, from the lowly shepard to the wise man, they all saw it, and went to investigate...? And it would explain how a virgin ended up raising a kid, wouldn't it? Hey, these texts are a couple thousand years old, passed down for a long time by word of mouth... who knows?

Second Gear

I've been cleaning out my closet lately. I don't mean that metaphorically, I mean literally, my actual closet in my actual room, throwing away stuff I don't need any more. Nothing says "I don't love you anymore" like throwing away a hundred old letters.

You ever find an old letter from someone, and the second you touch it, you have some weird randomly surfaced memory of the person who wrote it? A memory you haven't revisited in so long, you'd completely forgotten its existence there in the harddrive clunking eternally in your skull?

It's weird to think of myself with those people. Enough time goes by, and it doesn't even feel like it really happened. It's all some foggy distant alternate reality I merely peered into one day when the wall between worlds cracked open. I don't even feel like the same person, even though I am. Take this for example, I once had a fight with this girl I was seeing because I was bitching about Bill Clinton. He was president then, and yes, I did bitch about him, too. And yes, I have bitched about every president at one time or another (except Grover Cleveland; I've never bitched about him. But fuck him for having two non-consecutive terms, it fucks up all the lists, the prick... OK, now I've bitched about every one).

This girl, anyway, she got all snotty and said something along the lines of not caring and being tired of hearing about politics, etc--jeez, why would you ever date me if that's how you think?--so I got all indignant and lost my temper and we had a huge fight and it became this big public spectacle and, well, 'nuff said, it was ugly.

Now, I know I'm the same person who had that fight. I remember it all, and I'm not all that different, I still annoy people with my insane politics. But that was the me that was with her, and (you can call me a flake now) I believe when you get close to someone you really start to absorb their psychic energy. It's all unconscious and impossible to control unless you're some space-age post-human mutant, or a throwback to some earlier stage in evolution. But it's there, I'm sure of it.

I wouldn't have handled that fight the same way now. And it's not because I'm more mature or calm or anything like that. It's that I'm not the same person now, because I'm not the person who was with her. Her psychic material has all been cleared. Years of distance have scrubbed all the rocks and seagulls in my brain-beach clean from her ESP oilspill, and my behavior is affected.

Or maybe I'm overcomplicating that; maybe I wouldn't act that way now simply because I don't care about her anymore and I did then, so what she said hurt my feelings but now wouldn't even make a dent.

Third Gear

Weird times are afoot. I think everybody in the Green Party should write to Howard Dean and say:


If a Democrat has any hope of defeating President Governor Bush, he or she is going to need the liberal vote, and too many of us have gone to the Green Party for them to ignore our demands. That's why Dean's trying to market himself as the liberal's choice. I say we ask him to prove it.



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