absinthe, angry, apple, catch-22, cocaine, confused, Diction, Edgar Allen Poe, elsie, Ernest Hemingway, happy, Joseph Heller, joyful, Mormon, Mount Everest, my life, Non sequitur (literary device), obsessions, pandora, Pandora Media, proud, religion, sad, sin, soul, Sun, the forty-two, Things They Carried, Tim O'Brien, Vietnam
I have an obsession with non sequitur.
There. I said it. Whew. Now I can go on with my life, right? (RIGHT?!)
Now can I finally stop believing that the sentence “Evil eventually ekes elaborate euphemisms” is such a rich and valuable conglomeration of words? Can I cut my fishing line baited with “Hullabaloos”, a word that attracts promiscuous word lovers (English majors?)
Afraid that I’m stuck here forever floating
in the sea of diction on a raft shaped
like a beautiful, elegant sideways-eight.
Have you ever written an entire page of gibberish?
The sheer non sequitur of it all!
all those dense nouns and flighty verbs and flavor-wormwood adjectives.
It tastes so substantial, so nourishing, and so ultimately useless.
My obsession all began when I was eight. Tall, Mormon, skinny, I had just reached the peak of Everest. The week before I spent years lounging on the dark side of the moon, building moon castles with space dust and drinking out of a dimpled coca-cola glass a mimosa aptly named “astronomical sedulity” the contents of which are:
- three stones of comet ice
- 2 oz. quasar pulp champagne
- equal parts protons and neutrons
(it does not follow)
My obsession all began with a simple goal: to become interesting. I’ve spent years exploring the jungles of Vietnam keeping track of all The Things They Carried, working out the logistics of selling hundreds of pounds of chocolate-covered egyptian cotton while flying forty-five-no-fifty-no-fifty-five missions, and became flushed with bated breath as I heard that tapping, tapping at my chamber door.
Have I succeeded? Is a cat in a box dead? Is a cat in a box alive?
(Don’t let it out, Pandora gets angry.)
My obsession all began when I was twenty. She was sitting straight-backed just shy of the spotlight at the back of the room, five minutes later she’ll walk out — dragging me by her daisy chain. In that instant, my entire being bursting at the seams, I whispered after her
Won’t you, kind stranger, come, stay awhile, take a dive into the sea of debauchery? Taste the cocaine and the absinthe, witness The Sun that Also Rises over the Hemingway hills.