A Is For Avocado, Apathy, And In This Case, Amentia*

Pearl Jam was the paste.

“I love Pearl Jam,” you blurt out, and before you can further accessorize such declaration of worship for the brilliant drawls of Eddie Vedder (who ranks as one of the Rock gods in my book) my head began spinning. In a blinding flash my over-agile imagination immediately constructed lewd landscapes. Words like bed, sex, you, me, destiny swirled like windmills that went haywire in my carnal mind. I used to steal probing looks at you when I thought you were unaware I am staring and all I saw was a magnetic face. Beautiful but shallow. Uncomplicated but attractive—too attractive for comfort for mortals with shaky self-esteem. Too attractive enough to reduce others into feeling like fungal mold standing next to you. But your abrupt declaration on Pearl Jam pulled the rug under my conceited feet. It made me look at you in different light.

Suddenly a combustible crush crept up my spine, and realizing it's infantile manifestation, I shivered. I shook my shoulders to ambush the ridiculous thought, before it germinates into something terminal. But who am I kidding: your gorgeous face, the easygoing charisma and suddenly, Pearl Jam. Love.

But being me, self-preservation prevailed. My alert defense mechanism sprung into knee-jerk cynicism and self-annoyance slapped my smitten daze back into sobriety. This happened in split-seconds before I totally slide into irretrievable pits of fatal absurdity. Apathy and mild disdain demolished the sudden awareness of your newly-discovered charm. Yes, I was a prick. A qualified idiot. A self-defeating schmuck who had the last shred of restraint to save us both from ourselves.

~ ~ ~

This drivel was inspired by this album:

which I rediscovered among jumbled mountains of CDs randomly tossed like a salad by the charming hired hands who helped me moved into the new flat. The CD was intended to be a holiday gift for the subject of this blog entry (who also happened to be one of the more recent friends). However we drifted away a couple of years back and the CD remains a pristine, sealed duplicate of the album I already own.

It will remain that way, a dust magnet, eating space.

* idiocy, retardation