Not that anyone will ever really get me...

I was talking to a friend of mine on the internet today. He's one of these really amazingly together people. You know...the kind you try to hate, but just can't because they're too damned...together. He was asking me how I was, and I said to him, "Have you ever had one of those days where you just feel like a hamster in one of those plastic balls? You know, just kind of running around aimlessly, and not being able to see anything with any real clarity?" He said he was familiar with the feeling. In reply, I told him that on today in particular, I felt as though I was running around with cedar chips stuck to my ass, just waiting for the Big Giant Hand to come and pull me to safety. If only there were a big giant hand. Maybe that's what God is for lack of a better idea?

It's funny how the inability to face ones own life with any kind of clarity brings about certain inane instances that take the utmost precedence in our lives. Take this for example...

Due to the fact that my life seems to be stuck in some gelatinous freeze-frame, I developed certain idiosyncrasies that I use to kill time and entertain myself. The latest one of these "time fillers" as I like to refer to them, is my bizarre need to own an original Bob Ross painting. Maybe it's my desire to see Colorado again? Maybe it's the lightening quickness with which Mr. Ross created his oil-based universes? Maybe it's my intense love of all things kitsch? Maybe it's just the Happy Little Trees? Who's to say? All I know is I want one.

I was relating this sentiment to my best friend, Jonathan, the other night. Soon our discussion turned to my other Bad Art Obsession.....anything painted on black velvet. There have been many I coveted in my past. Satan having a smoke on the toilet. A reclining Nefratiti whom one scaly antique dealer insisted was his daughter posing for her senior picture. Dogs playing poker. (Always a classic). Last, and certainly not least, the one I covet the most....

I said to Jonathan, "You know, if I had the money, and the room in my house, I would love to have the four crucial black velvet paintings. "

"Really???" He said. A noted tone of 'she's-absolutely-lost-it' in his voice.

"absolutely! Satan on The Shitter..." I said.

"Nefratiti (My Daughter's Senior Picture)". He replied soon to be followed with "Dogs Playing Poker...and...what? Elvis?"

"Oh. Most definitely. The King and The King. Elvis and Jesus." I said. It made perfect sense to me.

Jonathan sounded a bit disgusted by the idea, "Eew...I don't know. Really??? You think so?"

"Oh, hell yeah. The King and The King??? Jesus and Elvis??? It's two great tastes that taste great together."

Suddenly in a moment reminiscent of an old Reese's commercial Jonathan exclaimed, "Your Jesus got in my Elvis!" To which I replied, "Your Elvis got in my Jesus!" Suddenly without a moment of hesitation we both screamed...

"IT'S DELICIOUS!!!"

See...plastic ball living. Sometimes it's pretty entertaining. That is as long as eventually The Big Giant Hand comes to help you to clarity, and to clean the cedar scented dingleberries from your ass.