I’m concerned that my move to DC has only served to hasten the inevitable spiritual degeneration I’ve been undergoing since my departure from college. While I try to maintain that effervescent, vivacious appeal through hard work and exercise (and quite a bit of both producing little of the desired effect), my default is to resort to vile extracurricular activities. You know it’s a bad sign when beer replaces your nightly glass of Orangina. Or worse yet, you resort to Corona only because you’re too lazy to muster up strength to use the corkscrew to open up a bottle of wine. While wine and beer both have the same desired effect, it is considered more high-brow/cultured/sophisticated to fancy wine as a nightly accompaniment to your meal. Thing is when you nuke a meal, beer is the only way to go. Of course you’re less likely to resort to debauchery while drinking wine. Drinking beer has the tendency to debase oneself into a depraved/lesser primate form. Case in point.

To preface the following section, I should also start out by saying that for the past few nights, I have been interrupted on a daily basis by fire alarms in the early AM. This happens at 4 AM and completely alters with my sense of reality. Last night for instance I no longer fancied myself an extra on an episode of “The Twilight Zone” (as I had the night before) but did however decide that I was officially losing it, going mental, and if I died in some random fire, so be it. It would be painful, but I’ve had some good moments in my life and can accept my fate willingly. It is ironic after all that most of the fear we endure in life is related to dying. We spent so much of our lives preoccupied with avoiding it/death that in effect we stop living. And yes these thoughts were going thru my head at 4:25 AM as the alarm was still blaring in my ear and I sat lifeless in front of my computer, debating If I should head down the 5 flights of stairs that would inevitably be packed with people like me-annoyed, disgruntled, and irritated. Would I really want to die that way (mangled in a stairwell) or would I prefer to sit in my apartment and wanker off to really bad TV and relieve some of my anxiety in an attempt to fall back asleep and not face my impending demise head-on or at the very least consciously. Think about it: Would you rather die in a moment of ecstasy (albeit completely dirty and shameful, the end justifying the means here) or angry and resentful?

In all seriousness this act in and of itself isn’t shameful. What is possibly shameful is that I spent the greater part of the weekend engaging in such conduct. Of course, I did manage to fit in sporadic bouts of running outdoors. In terms of stress release, I don’t advocate the latter. Between fending off mosquitoes and dealing with humidity, it makes for a less than advantageous time. If you can ignore all of the aforementioned, good for you. I for one am seriously considering acupuncture as a way of channeling my energy in a less depraved fashion. I am a chic after all. I need to have some discretion.

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