Referer (Sic) Logs (3)

So, with that much both in the mix and out of the way, I guess we better get started with the story. There has to be some sort of conflict, right? There’s really not that much to all of it, however — maybe you could say I was conflicted with myself for a while. That there is not so much, as far as challenge goes, is that not the constant dilemma of twenty-first century man? No dizzying highs, no terrifying lows, just a kind of numb gnawing at the soul if there ever is any pain? And since it is by conflict that we discover who we really are, in its absence, we never do find our true selves, we the people of the future. Of course, thinking like this, so existential it being — you could say of it that it is so twentieth century. No, no one philosophizes about anything anymore. There is too much to do, too much to see —most of it basically amounting to nothing. It may be that something like nihilism is only out of fashion because no one wants to go to the trouble of looking up just what the word means; we don’t even have that much. With all that’s possible in this wide world, no one wants to bother. If the last century was famous for going nowhere fast, this one will be for having reached it, and meandering there.

But I’m not bitter, not so much. Perhaps a little disappointed. Maybe, now, I should get back to the middle, since we’re at the middle at this point, where I supposedly started from (did you understand that?). I was disappointed that it didn’t work out between me and her. I thought at times that she might be, you know, the one; in fact, what I thought after our first date was that this was the girl I was going to marry. No joke. And there was this weird premonition kind of dream I had had a few years back, where I saw the face of my wife to be; and I didn’t see it for a few months, but when my ex this one time looked up at me from a certain angle — it was her. And then there was this time when I sent her a link to a song (in MP3 form, of course) I uploaded to one of my websites, just for her: “Wild Thing,” by the Troggs. In the text message, I wrote to her, “Wild thing, you make my heart sing,” whereupon she wrote back to me a few minutes later, “You make everything groovy.” Stuff like that gets you, you know? Right there.

(part 1)
(part 2)

(to be continued…)