“Now every Gambler knows that the secret to survival
Is knowin’ what to throw away and knowin’ what to keep
‘Cause every hand’s a winner, and every hand’s a loser
And the best you can hope for is to die in your sleep”
– Kenny Rogers, The Gambler
The last time I was in Anna’s, some weeks ago, I meowed at the Meowing Guy*. I was with GJM and Logan**, and as this one guy walked in I was like, “hey, I know that guy…”, and explained briefly about Meowing Guy, and we all started meowing loudly. In Anna’s. We confused a few people, but no reaction (GJM even tried barking).
But this time it was a completely different atmosphere; different gang of people, different reasons. Difficult conversations, difficult decisions, stammering…more than usual. Like I was sneaking around. I felt betrayed, and a betrayer, in doublethink components, dreaming a nightmare in fourier.
I think it’s human nature to remember the bad in life, the worst of every situation, burned into neurons like a tattoo. It’s one of those clever evolutionary hacks whose time has come and, perhaps, gone. It’s not critical to our survival that we remember something that made us happy, but something traumatic–damaging–a foolish risk–a painful mistake, it was at one time to our advantage that such scenes play through our heads over and over, conditioning, guaranteeing that we would never come close to making that particular mistake again.
But this meeting was hard for exactly the opposite reason: because sometimes you do remember the good times, and it’s so hard to just throw them away.
I had known for at least the last six months what I had gotten into; the responsibility and the unpredictability and the odds that…..what I could expect. Yes, I researched. I do shit like that. And I made my decision, and I still think I made it right. But there’s a difference between knowing something, in the back of your mind, and knowing something, right in the front of it like an errant bullet. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was, and on some level, still am. Shocked. Hurt. Totally illogical, I know, but sometimes, as in these matters of emotion and humans, knowledge changes nothing.
* a staple of Boston’s goth scene; makes cute kitten-mewing noises at girls in a desperate bid to get laid. And as often as not, from what I hear, succeeds.
LK: You know that.. meowing guy?
xxx: Oh, you mean Shane?
** I’m bad with names. I remember his because he kinda reminds me of Neo from The Matrix, played by wooden actor Keanu Reeves, who played “Ted Theodore Logan” in Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure. Branch, branch, branch. At least the branches are straight and not tight little spinloops.
QOTD:
[21:21] me: nah, my next car will run on cold fusion
[21:21] me: or even lukewarm fusion
[21:21] D*: yeah good luck workin that out
[21:21] me: hey, I’m almost there
[21:21] D*: you planning on buying your next car in 2063?
[21:21] me: got “pretty warm fusion” working a few nights ago…gert’s basement kicks ass
[21:22] D*: cuz thats when that will be available
[21:22] D*: whha??
[21:22] D*: i thought fusion was.. you know… not possible yet
[21:22] D*: at least man made fusion
[21:23] me: ordinary fusion just melted the ghetto tokamak we made out of sheet metal and huge inductors…complete meltdown, left a big pit in the concrete
[21:24] me: and probably radiated the fuck out of us…luckily his wife was on vacation
[21:24] me: (BTW, yes, I AM fucking with you) :P
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