Affinity
24 years old, some would say the prime of my life, and I would say, they’d be correct. Looking back, that age the following five or six, were my most suicidal, desperately idiotic, flippantly juvenile, ever in my life. Youthfully melodramatic with ignorant physical capabilities to experiment with mortality,, yes, yes. Great times.
Finished were the times with my good old childhood friends. Video-games, basketball ’til sundown, Dungeons & Dragons ’til dawn, comic books, and dancing in living rooms. Watching Japanese anime, eating hot pockets, and watching porn, were all done. For by 22, I’d finally had sex, and my eyes opened to a brand new world. Where everything I would ever do for the rest of my life, had absolutely everything to do with having more sex.
But I had no high school diploma. No job. No interest in a job. I lived with my mother. And a fashion sense only when it came to wearing matching pants and shirt. The ladies I would’ve wanted to have sex with, could have sex with a more attractive person, while the girls who would have sex with me, I wouldn’t want to.
What do to? What do to…
I knew I could write. I knew I could talk. That was no problem. The problem was to be able to get girls to have sex with me because of these two qualities I had and to get them to overlook everything else I didn’t.
What to do? What to do…
I somehow managed to get a girlfriend. But she eventually grew tired of my poetry and my conversations. And left me with heartbreak and a hard on. Mai Anh Mai, you bastard.
What to do? What to do…
I thought and thought. Read Jung, Shakespeare, Dante, Lao Tzu, the bible, and Darwin, to find the answers. I burned incense, the kind of incense that the local psychic said would invigorate my mind, just to get a clue on which way to go with life. I carried Tigers Eye and Garnet stones in a pouch around my neck. I’d meditate. I’d sit in my room, for hours upon hours, day after day, listening Beethoven, Nirvana, Coltrane, and A Tribe Called Quest, just to inject some sort of inspiration for my brain to decide on something, anything, to do.
But nothing. Nothing to do, nothing to do…
And it was like that for two years. Waiting, waiting, waiting, for something to happen to me.
It wasn’t just girls and sex. It was everything that they represented. Everything about what was outside of a video game and a comic book and a basketball court. Everything beyond my teen years and the comfort of knowing it was okay to be a fuck up.
But there was nothing there. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
