to say nothing of the dog

Tuesday, October 05, 2004

The World Is a Vampire

Thank you, Smashing Pumpkins, for the one lyric from the early to mid-90's that actually stuck in my head. I read an article today in the New York Times that links stomach pain to mental anxiety, due to the high level of neurotransmitters in the brain. My tapping feet and my cramping intestines signal TRIUMPH! on the part of the researchers (oh, brave researchers) who talked to a bunch of worried kids whose stomachs hurt them all the time.

Stoopid anxiety. Stoopid.

Why am I anxious? Could it be the seven applications for steady work floating out in the world? Could it be the echoing "You have NO messages in your voicemail" that gouging Verizon mercilessly drives into my ear? Could it possibly be the nagging fear that my lack of solvency will force Adam to drop out of school, will force me to cut my own classwork short, will cast Elmer and Squirrel out on the street, where they will certainly be eaten by rats, while Adam catches a cold that developes into tuberculosis and I will get HIV by being forced to sell my body for subway fare? And then nobody will like me and friends that I had in college will no longer recognize me in the street. AND IT WILL BE ALL MY FAULT.

Yeah. Maybe.

Elmer will try to tell the rats that he is big and tough, that he is the biggest baddest pug on the streets of New York. The rats will LAUGH AT HIM, and then their little dagger teeth will drip with blood. Blood of the pug.

Sometimes I wish that my imagination was a little less vivid. Because I am now crying at the idea of a pugilistic pug, pounded by parasites.

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