the gift of words is not something i quite understand. for most of my young adult life, i have dispise words and my lack of mastery of the basic aspects of the langugage. i still vividly recall my tortured nights in high school when it would take me two hours to express strutured sentences explaining the value of catcher in the rye to my insigificant life. of course now, it would be easy for me to comment on the meaning of it all because it accounts to nothing but an unfiltered snapshot of a polluted mind. still i seem to have been damn with the ability to articulate romantic concepts that have an unusual response from woman kind. only unusual in that it never happpens to me when i am at a bar or a yoga studio where i just mumble meaningless chatter about how great the weather is. and so, it’s quite an entertaining exercise for me to response to those online personsals. like earlier today when i was inspired to reponse to a middle eastern law student that had the inklings for a complexitiy rich single malt experience. i have to confess, since i came back from NYC, i find my regular affinities rather bland. after meeting up with the likes of my persian socialitie and glorious german goddess, i can’t help but explore the great vastness that is the ‘third’ world. still, only after i have come full circle can i transcend my own identity. it’s been widely known that i don’t care much of my own kind and it often makes me feel rather awkward. does it really mean that i can’t accept me or does it mean that i have been so white wash that i have taken THEIR point of view. or it simply my own constuction that i want what i can’t get. certainly, it would be far too easy for me to entertain the likes of the wonderful woman that my father would be happy to set up for me. either or, i know enough that the easy path is not for me. i rather suffer in the path of emptiness than shine on the mountain of comfort. at this point, i’ve realize that i have gone beyond the sappyiness of free drinks until the indulence of apathy.
