The Open Matt Project

Disrtubde

I am disturbed.

I am disturbed by a trail of ants on my kitchen counter that leads to an empty spot with nothing there. The ants walk up to the empty spot, stop, then turn around and go back to wherever they came from. I have washed that spot and sprayed it with any poison with no effect. Back and forth they go from somewhere to nowhere and back again.

I am disturbed by how excited I get by Kirstie Alley singing "Santa Baby" on the Pier One commercials. I usually hear it before I see it, which makes it a little better, but in the end the fact is that I'm attracted to Kirstie Alley. I have always hated her. I hated her on Cheers and I hated her on SNL and I've hated her on everything since. But that Santa Baby song gives me wood.

I am disturbed by my increasing sense of security and internal strength. I know what I am doing. I like who I am becoming. I understand why I feel the way I do. I am afraid of how fearless I am, but then I'm unafraid of my fear as well. Quite a pickle.

I am disturbed by the ever widening gulf between my understanding of global politics and others understanding. I get to listen to hare-brained notions, rock-solid theories, facts and figures, wise opinions, angry diatribes, flippant quips, apathetic grunts, democratic debates, bushisms, flag-burning screaming, yougottaminit activist screeds, desperate dissembly, and my own meandering mind and I find that the gap I'm trying to bridge is inexorably expanding. As an undocumented side-effect, my sentences are getting longer.

I am disturbed by sex with Denali. I am disturbed by dreams of teenage girls. I am disturbed by the creeping doom of my laundry pile. I am disturbed by my desire for Hope. I am disturbed by my weight gain. I am disturbed by my frustration with Rose. I am disturbed by my not seeing the sun for five days in a row. I am disturbed by my newly harnessed faith. I am disturbed by Ian and Julie, and Joe and Mary, and John and Gelsie, and me and no one. I am disturbed by my quitting smoking for no reason. I am disturbed by my writing. I am also disturbed by reading my writing.

Exactly as disturbed as I am by you reading this.

Posted by Matt at December 11, 2003 09:28 PM