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| nothing's elementary. | 04.12.2004 | |
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 “overwhelming urges” account for less than a quarter of a percent of the estimated usage of the word “overwhelming” in present day north america. which, i, for one, find shocking. for some reason, when i think of something “overwhelming”... i think of an urge. and, consequently, when i think of a descriptor for an urge... i think of the word “overwhelming.” i really have no idea how people use “overwhelming” without referring to urges. and now, i have an cavalier urge to sleuth around and discover what urge-less things everyone find so OVERWHELMING. eh. see... it doesn’t work. yes, that syntax was awkward. regardless, note to self: percentages are bullshit. it was a sunday afternoon, and i had an overwhelming urge to do a little sleuthing. so, all i needed was a case to crack. i walked around to some office buildings—no broken windows, no blaring alarms. then, i made my way over to a convenience shop—no smashed or obscured surveillance cameras, no menacing shoppers wearing pantyhose over their heads. finally, i happened upon a woman lying dead on a sidewalk with a knife protruding out of her chest—but, again, no muddy footprints around the body, or any immediately visible fingerprints. apparently, i hadn’t prepared myself for the annoying pre-“fighting crime” stage of fighting crime. and, finding a crime is the arduously unfortunate prerequisite of fighting a crime. though, i’m not sure how anyone could afford one of those cb-police scanners on an amateur sleuth’s wages. man, i can barely afford both a paperback copy of joseph heller’s catch 22 and a pickle. crestfallen, i decided to walk home. the sun was setting, and it was starting to get dark. my footsteps quickened to build suspense. just then, an epiphany errantly occurred to my cerebellum (which, then, correctly relayed it to my cerebrum): sleuthing isn’t just about solving murders, breaking open robbery cases, nabbing villains, smoking pipes, wearing a monocle, living in london, and spending your nights bathed in lonely self-gratification. it’s also about observation, clever wit, and creepily hanging out in popular college spring break destinations. just then, walking in my direction, i noticed a shapely young woman wearing tight jeans and a half-shirt with “almond joy” printed over her mounds. i usually don’t go for the name-brand type, but hey... sometimes you feel like a nut. other than pathetic attraction, i had a hunch there was something about this girl. miraculously, i was able to inconspicuously dash into a patch of thick shrubbery for a better look. as she walked, i watched her gait. her strides were too small to be the superstitious type... as she routinely stepped on the cracks in the sidewalk. however, if there’s a book on how to be a good detective... i would assume there would be something in there about not giving up on hunches prematurely. so, i stuck to my guns. sure enough, there was a ladder lying in the back of a pick-up truck across the street and, as she walked past, miss half-shirt made no effort to walk underneath it. maybe she is the superstitious type! maybe she’s not from the area. perhaps from a place where the sidewalk cracks aren’t so far apart... and her gait is pre-programmed to avoid those cracks. and, logically, since she’s no longer in the town where she’s from... she throws superstition to the wolves. who am i kidding? i’m beyond “going on a limb” on this one. i’ve already walked out too far, the bough has snapped... and i’ve fallen down into a dense patch of shrubbery. in order for there to be answers there needs to be questions... is she superstitious? yes. why? that whole ladder thing. what about the crack-stepping? she came from a place where the cracks were closer together. or... where there are more cracks! someplace old. where the sidewalks are more weathered... where? st.augustine, naturally. but, just because she’s no longer in st. augustine, she now steps on cracks? she... maybe she lost her superstition. it’s not out of the question... R.E.M. lost their religion... china lost it’s attempt at population attrition... she lost her superstition? yeah, right. maybe her mom’s back is already broken. maybe her mom’s dead. so, other than being generally attractive... this girl grew up, superstitious, in the ancient town of st. augustine. her mother, who was an avid seamstress and jogger, was very loving and committed to raising her daughter. unfortunately for her beautiful daughter and the local old-towne sewing circle, her mother was brutally killed in an errant firing squad mishap. she was shot twenty-one times in the back. after the funeral and an emotional R.E.M. concert (on the following night), this hot piece of ass moved to los angeles, stepped on cracks, and fell madly in love with a normal guy, who, on a sunday afternoon, had an overwhelming urge to do some life-altering detective work. the percentage that all of this is accurate... probably only 44.9%. and percentages are percentages. wait, what's this? a note to self? |
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| 4:14 am | sui generis said this. | |
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