Did You Have A Nice Trip? - or - Dis Traction

“Son of a bitch!”
-Obsquatch

It happened today. I had a moment where I lost control. I was reduced to a being of pure consequence; not a cognitive existence, but rather solely a reactionary one. I was locked in the moment and the moment demanded that I forget about my past, forget about my dreams, forget about my surrounding, and strictly suffer. Suffer because of the choices I’ve made, of the direction I’ve taken, the brass I’ve been showing, the defiance of the forces that rule the world around us. It was time. Time for me to buck up and face the fact that, just like everyone else of the face of the planet, I am a slave to those forces. Namely the forces of gravity. I slipped on the ice and fell on my ass today. I was taking out the recycling, I was saving the world, I was righting the wrongs of so many wasteful generations, and it landed me on my butt. Hard. I watched my legs rocket out from underneath me and set them selves, in stark contrast to their customary backdrop, against the sunny blue sky right as my right buttock slammed into the ice coated pavement. “Son of a bitch!” The contents of the two blue recycling bags were now strewn around the parking lot.

“Safe!” yelled some douchebag from the elevated train platform overlooking the parking lot. He had a ringside seat for my one round, one punch bout with gravity, and he was mocking my misforture. “Safe!” he yelled again, just to make sure that I knew he was making a joke at the fact that my normally unclumsy ass fell down. I was still on my back, staring straight up at the sky, and moaning. Moaning in pain. Pain that I felt right then and there, and pain that I knew would be literally following me around for the next few days. “Safe!” I heard yelled one more time. Without averting my eyes from the heavens that had forsaken me, I yelled out “I heard you the first time, fuck stain!” A half Muttly, half Flava Flav style laugh rained down from the el platform as I scraped myself off the ground, picked up all the used shit that gravity had helped me strew across every inch of the parking lot, hobbled over to the blue recycling dumpster with one hand on my lower back like some great grandpa who is always asking for help to “change his sac”, and saved ten pounds of material from sitting in a dump for the next few hundred years. Now my butt and lower back hurts, no, throbs constantly. I’m gonna get drunk and play some irish music with Tripp tonight and forget about gravity until it dishes out another helping of bullshit and I fall on my ass cartoon-banana peel-style again. Depending on how much Jameson I drink tonight, round two with gravity might not be to far off in my future. Cheers.

In other news:
This is why I'll never Twiter. Ever.