I was on a plane to Korea nearly 2 years ago now. At the time I was reading 'Catch-22' and not really getting into it. One theory is I didn't appreciate the irony the book portrays of a lifestyle I had yet to actually live. The other theory is that Delta's big jets have a fully stocked wet bar and its all free on international routes, at least it was. Nothing says, "I am not going to finish this book today!" like an 11:30AM Jack & Coke--"better make it a double."
I learned a very valuable lesson that day about proper hydration and how uncomfortable a slight hangover can be on a 16 hour journey. I think it is similar to the 'Fight Club' "calm-as-hindu-cattle" theory introduced by Tyler to his single serving friend. Except there is something less alarming about a tiny bottle of alcohol as opposed to a oxygen mask dangling in front of your face at 30,000 Ft. To be honest, in hindsight, I would prefer the oxygen.
Needless to say I didn't finish the book. And I got so sidetracked with work and at first being overly extroverted and then a sudden turn towards ultra introverted. Seems to go in waves depending on who is coming and who is going. The constant shuffle keeps life interesting if nothing else. The book goes from backpack to nightstand and later to the dresser. I lose intrest and it migrates into my dresser. The book marker slips out at some point, which doesn't matter because I don't remember anything but names and a vague sense of the characters overall dissatisfaction with their place in life.
So lately I have been riding the bus a lot up to Seoul and waiting around in corporate coffee franchises(destroying small business one sip at a time.) Most of this is the kind schedule altering only done for a lady, which it is, but it creates all the perfect pockets of time to spend reading all the books I have lying around looking at me accusingly waiting to be picked up and read. This allowing them to become books-I've-read if not necessarily enjoyed instead of being $8.95-paper-weight-I-purchased-with-the-intention-of-reading. Catch-22 was not the first one I went back to when time began to present itself. I had assumed after failing the first time that the book was a "Classic."
I don't mean "Classic" in a good sense like an 11th grade English teacher(Mrs. Purvis I'm looking at you here) might ramble on about the finer points of Steinbeck, who I never cared for. I think I wrote something once about "two-dimensional characters I feel no empathy for." When I say classic I mean the books that "must be read" because they are "timeless." These are usually available in Penguin Books trade paper backs at a volume retailer in a mall parking lot near you. Not that there is anything inherently wrong with that, it's just a fact.
But 'Catch-22' proved to be far more entertaining than I had thought the first go around and as I read it I found most of the main characters points first absurd then shockingly insightful. Perhaps on par with a more recent reads' question of whether or not you would put a silver back mountain gorilla in the NFL if he was smart enough to both understand and enjoy the game while simultaneously agreeing not to intentionally hurt anyone. My first thought was "that's a horrible idea!" But as I have thought about it I realize two things: "Who am I to deny a sentient creature its pursuit of what it enjoys?" And more importantly: "That would be bad-ass!" I mean, who WOULDN'T want to see that? I detest most organized (human)sporting events but the thought of a gorilla vs. man-who-wants-to-be-gorilla is incredibly entertaining for me.
So the book is read, and the only people who quote have nothing new to say themselves. But when you think about it all we do in this life is collect and regurgitate information anyway. Let me tell you about justice:
"Justice?" The colonel was astounded. "What is justice?"
"Justice, sir - "
"That's not what justice is," the colonel jeered, and began pounding the table again with his big fat hand. "That's what Karl Marx is. I'll tell you what justice is. Justice is a knee in the gut from the floor on the chin at night sneaky with a knife brought up down on the magazine of a battleship sandbagged underhanded in the dark without a word of warning. Garroting. That's what justice is when we've all got to be tough enough and rough enough to fight Billy Petrolle. From the hip. Get it?"
"No, sir."
"Don't sir me!"
"Yes, sir."
Something about this made me sure that the author was not under the influence of illegal narcotics but something far more powerful, the effects of to much caffeine and not enough sleep. When you waking mind dips momentarily into the land of dreams and come back with something that seems incredibly real and powerful. It makes total sense to you at the time. But later when you read it you wonder if perhaps you spent last evening playing operator with babelfish
I have spent more than the average person's share of time in this trance like state. I think its worst in the early evening between 4-7. I think coffee is just a way of redistributing time from when it is used least(after work) to when it is need most(after you have been pulled from a warm comfortable bed like an infant from the womb.) "By will alone, I set my mind in motion." Coffee stains the teeth, the teeth become a warning. "By will alone I set my mind in motion." Never mess with a Mentat after 5 cups of breakfast blend, he will cut you.
Despite all the wonderful benefits of my legal, socially acceptable habit, I have been thinking again about kicking it. I will miss it in the morning. It has become more of a routine than a chemical addiction, which it ALSO is. But what prompts me to this "attempt" is people I have known for years in some cases telling me I look "so tired" which is bad or "so old" which may be worse. "I don't need this! If I want this kind of abuse, I will talk to my family."
Which brings us BACK to 'Catch-22.' I started it on a plane to Korea from Seattle, seems fitting then that I finished on the way from Korea to Seattle. The flight was decent if not a little long. By the time I arrived in Seattle I had been awake for over 24 hours and headed to get a rental car. The nice man asked me if I got enough sleep on the plane before he handed me the key with a somewhat concerned look on his face. I assured him I did, though in reality a man of my size is RARELY comfortable in this life and NEVER comfortable in coach. Certainly not enough to sleep.
My first time back in the States in 2 years and within an hour I am sitting behind the wheel of a car eating Jack-In-The-Box. I am glad to see the American Dream is still alive. I don't think I have ever seen a drive through restaurant in Korea. I am sure one exists somewhere, but my lack of a vehicle here has made finding one somewhat difficult. I think perhaps they are the answer to a question yet to be asked. I have seen a drive through Starbucks here though, some thing are just universal.
You own a cell phone. I was going to say probably and realized I am 5 years past probably. I have become the guy that is deathly afraid to be without a cell phone. Even if I probably won't need it, what if I do? If I need to call someone, I won't even know their number without the phone telling me. This was the dilemma I was faced with upon coming back, no cell phone. Luckily my fear only lasted about a day before Adam informed me I could use his extra and mail it back to him before I left to came back. That was an eerie feeling actually. Checking the phone one last time for messages, getting any last minute info I needed out of it, putting it into a box, and handing it to what may have been the most eccentric Kinko's crew I have run into(out of two, not such a big deal.)
Two-Tone-Hair-Girl: "You had a visitor while you were out."
Comic-book-store-guy: "Really, who?"
Two-Tone-Hair-Girl: "Your Mom."
Comic-book-store-guy: "Ya, right."
Two-Tone-Hair-Girl: "No seriously, tell him who was here!"
Nondescript-employee: "Some mean crazy lady attacked her."
Two-Tone-Hair-Girl: "See I told you!"
My life has become a movie, book, or music video possibly based on 70's era rock music requiring a hit of acid to truly comprehend. Traveling the subway gives me WAY to much time to think about nothing in particular. So I will end up people watching. Guessing things like quality of life, sexual preference, choice of dinner, or time and manner of death based on fashion choice, body language, tone of voice, facial expression, and color of ipod or cell phone. I don't have any hard data on how accrurate my predictions are. But I like to assume close to 100%.
The special effects are pretty sweet bordering on chemical imbalance good. Snippets from each persons life popping up as my eyes pass from face to face looking for the similar in the dissimilar. And sometimes the familiar in the completely alien. I am judging them men, not by the contents of their characters, but by the Louis Vuitton man purse they have slung over their shoulder. I need to get my gay-dar re calibrated. I don't think it works in the 'Metro' setting.
The culmination of yesterdays subway fantasy was the edgy guy I was standing next to for a few stops before mine. Turns out he is headed to the same place, but for EVIL! The second the train comes to a stop edgy dude busts past all the people standing waiting to get off the train and deposits a bundle on the ground before us and runs up the stairs. Upon reaching the turnstiles he realizes he doesn't have a ticket and starts pulling frantically on the gate to pass through without paying.
Now I realize that what PROBABLY happened was that he really had to go to the bathroom and in the rush to get off the train he probably lost his ticket. The package? Little more than trash he didn't want to find a trash can for with to properly dispose of. Nobody looked even slightly alarmed by his erratic movement.
But in my heart I KNOW that Jack Bauer was on this guys trail. It's only a matter of time before he catches up with him and his bungled plot. He has stopped him, but that isn't enough. Oh no, not for Jack. He wants what's in your head little man and he means to get it. By the time Jack boy is done with you, you are going to WISH you were being water boarded in Guantanamo Bay little man. Jack has plans for you, and your knee caps. To Be Continued...
