December 4th, 2002

The gentleman is always properly dressed

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Bombs were found in two IKEA stores in the Netherlands.

In a curious coincidence, I watched Fight Club again last night, trying once again to figure out just exactly when things went horribly wrong. Yes, I know that the correct answer is to say that it would be about the time of the narrator’s psychotic break which actually occurs before the story begins. I’m not there, though. I’ll confess being swept up in the vision of Tyler Durden to a point, and I think that point changes depending on my state of mind.

The most common break for me is the aftermath of Operation Latte Thunder. I’ll readily confess that the idea of destroying a franchise coffee bar with a piece of corporate art struck me as tremendously funny. That said, Bob’s untimely death really disturbed me, as did the chant that began when the narrator attempted to reassert Bob’s identity. For me, it was then that it became clear that the whole thing had spiraled out of control. What began as a group of dissatisfied men seeking experience that was visceral and real had descended into the realm of personality cult.

That’s where I find my limit.

In spite of everything that’s happened, and in spite of my occasionally losing sight of it, I still have a sense that I have a lot to lose. I still entertain fantasies of the mustard yellow colonial on the banks of the Concord River. On some level, I still accept the roles that have been placed on me.*

Perhaps it is simply my unwillingness to let go or maybe I just don’t like pain.

*There will be more on this later. The idea of living out a pale shadow of someone else’s dream led to a gut-wrenching session (or two) with my special friend, but I’ve not been ready to write about it.
The gentleman is always properly dressed

Mybe Fehbice

I went to the dentist today* for a refit on an old filling. The bad? There was a touch of decay underneath the old fixture, which I'm almost certain was one of the ones I got when I got to be a licensure exam at Tuft's Dental. The good? The problem got caught early enough that it really wasn't a big issue.**

Despite growing up with one in the family, a trip to the dentist usually freaks me out. I don't like not being able to feel parts of my face for extended amounts of time, and the sounds the various tools make always seem to suggest some major construction going on in a space that's smaller than my fist. The freaking out is only partly mitigated by the fact that my dentist is very cute. (Hey, I take joy where I can find it...)

In other news, I got a postcard from Singapore in today's mail, and it pretty much made my day. It's funny that I still take the greatest pleasure in the smallest things, and proper surface mail that isn't a bill or an advertisement brings a smile to my face every time. Thanks Shasta. I'll be sharing it with S when next she's in town.

*Yes, this is why I had some time during the day today to post here.
**And, there's a new hunk of metal in my head.
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