Friday, July 1, 2011

Beauty fades. Lunacy is forever.

Todd and I often have the demented conversation. It's the glue, really. It's what's been keeping us going for close to 15 years. Because you know? Beauty fades, but lunacy? That's forever. So here you go: a glimpse into our world, and the true secret of our relationship's longevity.

"Hey Todd, I think I may throw a hip mama party. I seem to know a lot of hip... mamas."

"What? You want to throw a Rohypnol party, with hip nobs? Todd is confused."

"No, no no! HIP MAMA. Like with margaritas, and the usual cheezy shit that people do at parties, only with my mama friends, and not a bunch of random stragglers from the street.

"Ha hahahahaha! A rohypnol party! I love it! Can you imagine THAT invitation? It would read something like: come for the rohypnol... stay for the sleep."

"You could do something like... give a certain number of people the actual rohypnol, and the rest, a sugar pill. No one knows who gets what, and the ones who stay up get to have fun with the ones who pass out... with SHARPIES!"

"It's like... Russian roulette. OH MY GOD! It's a Russian Rohypnol party!!! I suppose it's all well and good between consenting adults, right?"


"Oh, let's do this!"


Last night, we were laying in bed. I was dozing to the sounds of the streets and bars outside. This has become my lullaby. I can't sleep if it's too quiet anymore. I should probably buy myself one of those damn Sharper Image sound machines for when we leave town, because there are some places we go that have scary sounds... like coyotes and peacocks off in the distance, and I admit it; I know that in this case; neither bird, nor beast would hurt me physically. But hearing them while I'm dozing off only occasionally, especially if they are right next to the house, freaks my shit way out.

So, I am hearing the pleasant sounds of Southeast Portland; the bus, the Reed students walking to and from the bar across the street, cars stopped at the light with the windows rolled down, blasting "Sexual Healing", the guy who sings Soundgarden songs very loudly as he passes my house, etc. All was well.

Yes. That is my scene. And I have grown to love it.

Suddenly, and apropos of nothing, I hear Todd blurt out: "Butt-sexual!"

"Wha? Why? NO!"

"I don't know. I just wanted to see how you would react."

"Oh. OK. How about... shut up and go to sleep?"

"See, *Bad, this is comedy. You just can't understand."

"Oh, I understand comedy. I understand it better than you. I recognize comedy when I see it, and I'm afraid m'dear, that was not comedy. That was just one of your weird non-sequiturs."

"No, it's revolutionary comedy. Revolutionary comedy. It's too new. You just don't have the capacity to understand it yet."

"Oh I see. You gonna start a revolution? A butt-sexual revolution? Well, there's a band name if I've ever heard one."

"So... you wanna?"

"No! Go to sleep, dammit!"


*(For those of you just joining, "Bad" is Mr. Hed's nickname for me. Because well? I'm kind of a badass... or at least I let him think that. Shh! Let the man think what he wants!)

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