Sunday, July 4, 2010

Conflict. Solution.

Conflict. Solution.

Something about knowing how to make a bomb reminds me of Fight Club. Maybe it’s because part of my mind knows so the rest of my mind can recall this information. Maybe because it’s more useless information that I’ll never use. Or maybe because the issue presented is… What if that other part of my mind disagrees with this line of thinking? Therein lies the conflict and the solution.

We create our own conflict and solution. Human nature and condition is not satisfied without a struggle that can be resolved.

The tough decision for today involves which summer dress and what shoes?

Don’t lie to yourselves. The government couldn’t make the big choices without a nice suit and tie. Armani really looks best on TV. Especially on C-SPAN during hearings. 

There’s always a better suit. Just like there’s always a better bomb.

Ballet flats or sandals?

The world will not explode because of shoes and clothes. The composition of my Clinique brand of foundation, on the other hand has the potential to do more.

Maybe I won’t wear foundation today.

Conflict and Solution.

Fight club is one of my favorite movies and books. Although I’ve never entirely read the book.


That word is like a set of knives, that I can hear coming straight at me and piercing.
Stabbing yourself along with everyone else is a problem.
Nonetheless it doesn’t make what truth there is in that statement any less accurate.

I don’t own the book and I’ve never read it in its entirety.

A few funny quotes and couple of passages doesn’t make a read. And it doesn’t change my opinion on it being one of my favorites.

A friend is making a brilliant movie based on a brilliant script that was self-penned. I’ve never read it, seen the posters, or heard the synopsis. Yet it will be brilliant and I will love it. But I can’t help but wonder what the book would have been like.

It’s 11:43 am. I’m eating something for breakfast that involves protein and drinking chilled apple juice to wash down my multi-vitamin(s). I’m looking outside. Watching the birds steal water out of the feeder and thinking this is still about making bombs. Feeding pigeons Alka-Seltzer tabs will make them explode. Please don’t blow up the pigeons. It isn’t a suggestion. They have a hard enough life. I’ll tell you later.

11:52 am. Still looking outside. Wondering about Fight Club. Knowing that it’s brilliant. Remembering that I’ve never read it. Thinking that I’m no better than the press mongers for assuming brilliance in something that hasn’t even been created. Realizing that at this moment I am behaving like a passive sheep. And that somewhere someone is blowing up pigeons.

Will the chemical composition of sunscreen explode when combined with something in the line of MAC cosmetics? Or Cover Girl? Or Revlon?

Will over-the-counter beauty retaliate and cause facial paralysis?

This is because I’m an odd bird with my sundresses and sandals.
This is because I know how to make a bomb because I read it somewhere.
This is because books might be dangerous. Movies might be too.
This is about Fight Club.


I can pull out the knives. But I’m not ready to juggle them.
That’s not going to make the truth any less true.
There is no I in you or me. Or he and her. And they, them, and we.
That may or may not be true for you or me.

It’s about recalling useless information.
It’s because the movie may or may not be brilliant, but I’ll always wonder if the book was.
It’s refusing the Alka-Seltzer tabs when they are offered to me.
It’s only using Sunscreen.

SPF 45.

Conflict. Solution.


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