Riddle Me This

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Her profile reads:

Paul’s height is six feet, he’s an assistant at a butcher’s shop, and wears size 11 shoes. What does he weigh?

There’s multiple levels to a good riddle.

99.9% of the time the answer is always in the question. But the smartest thing you can do is keep your eye on the big picture.

Two are measurements, one is an occupation, and the question is a measurement.

Add in the fact that it’s a riddle, and you can start to see why one phrase sicks out above the rest.

Also why the other three have to match.

Misdirection.

It’s a great tool that helps bring novelty to the familiar, but this post ain’t about relationships. It’s about a bio.

Now I’ve read a shit ton of profiles, but ones like this really stand out to me. Most are generic, not because people don’t like to talk about themselves, but because most people don’t give themselves permission to be themselves around strangers. The ironic thing is, the finger prints of your personality is all over everything you do.

What you write,

or what you don’t write,

What you wear,

What’s in the background of your picture

These things speak in volumes.

And much like the answer to the riddle, they aren’t on the surface.

Which is why this sparks my curiosity.

So why a riddle? Why this one? When did she hear it? Does it mean anything to her?

Now I’m not retarded. The odds of the stars aligning, us meeting up, her looking remotely like her pictures, so I can even get the faintest opportunity to see if she’s the person she claims to be is fucking terrible.

It’s the never ending Zeno’s paradox of online dating.

But I guess those minuscule odds is why I like to play the game.

I type:

Paul weighs meat. Who doesn’t love a good riddle?

One Step Closer

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I messaged her on a whim. Not because I didn’t think she wouldn’t respond, but because my luck has been so bad lately in the Tinder world. She was a Latina princess. Looked like she had back dimples, and had to walk sideways through some closets.

As much as I enjoy this type, it means about dick and shit compared to a personality. It’s unfortunately taken me almost 30 years for me to figure that one out. My problem is I’m a perfectionist. I may only have 4 or 5 hobbies, but I plan to do those 4 or 5 hobbies the best I can until I die. For some reason, dating seams to fall in that spectrum. I could be out with a girl that the bartender is downloading mental snapshots for his spank bank as we order a drink, but if she doesn’t meet most of the criteria, my eyes are already wondering. But I digress.

The online game is hit or miss for me. The Engineer part of me wants to believe in technology bringing the world together. But the other part who has ran down this path 400 times, knows I can save more time asking out every girl I see at the local Jewel Osco.

So I send out this message and she bites. I can tell right away that her English isn’t so hot, but I don’t call her out on it. When I speak my broken Spanish, I get self conscious as fuck. We message back and forth about when and why moved to Chicago. She’s an Au-pair wanting to learn English.

Reading in between the lines, I get the feeling that she wanted a little more than that. What exactly, I have no idea, but it was obvious. The rumbling in my gut wanted to find out more. We talked about meeting for coffee. I knew a few spots around her place. I wanted help with “mi espanol” y she wanted help with English. The perfect set up in between talking about our commonality about our young nieces.

She said she just met her one year old niece, right before moving here. I asked if it was hard, leaving all that behind for a dream.

……

……

She unmatched me.

……..

……

Damn it.

Yet, at the same time. I’m one step closer.

 

 

 

Actual Cover Letters I Send To Literary Magazine Editors Pt. 2

Dear Editor,

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00000000000000000000000000000000000000000077777777700000000000000000000000000

00000000000000000000000000000000000000007777777000000000000000000000000000000

00000000000000000000000000000000000007777777770000000000000000000000000000000

00000000000000000000000000000000000777777770000000000000000000000000000000000

00000000000000000000000000000000777777770000000000000000000000000000000000000

00000000000000000000000000000777777777000000000000000000000000000000000000000

 

….I bet you were waiting for me to start off the cover letter like a professional and not some 90’s retro computer game. Well expect the unexpected, my friend. Here I would love to tell you that there is some deep significance to the number seven that applies to the story I’m sending, but there isn’t. I thought it would be fun to draw.

If you couldn’t tell, this letter isn’t going to get any different from what’s above. I’ll probably ramble a few more sentences about nonsense and sprinkle in some inappropriate jokes here and there, because well screw it. I really don’t care if you publish my work or not.

Trust me, it’s not that I don’t think my work is good. Everything I write is fireworks on the 4th,  including my name. I would like you too, if you feel it fits you journal. But if not, we’ll do this song and dance again soon.

You see for whatever reason, I measure my success by the amount of times I hit the green submit button. That’s the gold metal to me. Whatever happens after that is a bonus. This year I’ve submitted 30 pieces, which means I’ve kicked ass 30 times. Chicago Marathoners have nothing on me and you best believe 31 is coming in a few brief seconds. Well, that is, until I figure out how to tie in a solid joke at the end.

………

………

……………………So I got nothing. I was trying to out smart you by making a pun with a movie quote from Se7en. But I’m done. I wasted all my creativity on this this piece. …Okay and this cover letter that you probably won’t read. So you won this round, but I’ll be back. You can count on that one.

P.S. Please enjoy my my 700 word piece entitled “Oscar”.

P.S.S. I really loved your last piece “Mooncake” by Grace Prasad.

Sincerely,

Darby Cashed

Aka the people champ

Aka the Voodoo Child

Aka the Italian Stallion

Aka the most successful deadbeat writer you’ve never heard of

 

Part 1 Here

 

How Things Done Changed

I sent a text to this girl I met the other day on the street. She just got back from living overseas for the last five years.

Me: You haven’t seen How I met Your Mother? Yikes

Her: I’m sorry I don’t know that reference. I feel like I’ve been missed so much, I’m just trying to catch up.

Me:Ohh, well that’s acceptable then. Here let me help. Here comes the cliff notes on the USA since you’ve been gone:

Me: So everyone in Hollywood is a rapist.

Me: A former reality tv star is our leader

Me: John Oliver replaced John Steward and moved the show to HBO.

Me: We’re really mad at guns.

Me: ……again

Me: For some reason people still like the Kardashians

Me: There are more “Real House Wives” than major US Cities

Me: We still protest racial issues

Me: Other than in Miami, Soccer isn’t a thing.

Me: And Winona Ryder is famous again.

Her: Wow. So nothing has changed huh.

Me: Not a damn thing.

 

 

Book Review: Less Than Zero, Bret Easton Ellis

I wondered into Barns and Noble yesterday after work for no particular reason. Although I love indie bookstores, it was nice to walk into a store I knew there wasn’t a 50-50 shot at seeing a rat. I bumped into a guy checking out the Fiction section when I saw “Less Than Zero” by Brett Easton Ellis on the shelf.

Now, I’ve seen American Psycho like everyone else. Even had a date say I look like Patrick Bateman (she was crazy, I don’t). But something about this book spoke to me, so I grabbed it after reading the back cover.

I’m glad I did, because it’s an amazing book! I read it in a matter of hours, a feature in which only one other book has managed to accomplish for me. The quick and dirty notes: it’s about this wealthy 18 year old, Cliff, who is visiting home for Christmas. He reunites with old friends, parties, has wild encounters, and struggles with all of it.

Every section has this longing for meaning that is like a inch in your back you can’t quite scratch. You keep reading because you want it to resolve, but really never does. The story is mainly centered around the city of LA, which is easy to take shots there. But in reality, it goes much deeper.

If you look at it from a thousand point view, everyone of our needs is met. Even more so than before when you add in the influx of technology.

Need to go somewhere? Uber.

Wanna find a group to hang out with? Meetup.

Need a date? Tinder.

But when you really start to look at human nature, the history of who we are and how we’ve got to this point, you begin to see the flaw in this design. A flaw I think we are only beginning to scratch the surface on, and throws out a giant question.

What else is there?

My grandpa fought in Korea. He literally scraped his friend’s brain matter of his own face because he had to keep fighting. He might have been next if he didn’t. Yet so many years later, he did this so I could drink heavily, watch Netflix in my underwear, and listen to a girl on the train ramble on about Kylie Jenner’s favorite brand of matcha.

But what did we expect?

We weren’t ready for this unexpected consequence of numbness all the time. It’s like the people that are always like “give peace a chance”. That’s awesome in theory, but there is no human nature added in that equation. We like to feel shit. Not just the good stuff, like happiness, or joy. ALL OF IT! Truthfully, this is one of the main reasons I enjoy the company of women more than guys, because they naturally understand this.

So naturally we do what humans do and make mountains out of mole hills. We self sabotage. Create some chaos. For example, at one point Cliff, the main character, watches one of his good friend’s fuck another man because he’s owes coke money to a gangster. He contemplates leaving but stays by thinking “I need to see this.”

And truthfully, the more I think about it, I feel like it’s not just the particular character Cliff who would stay to watch.. Now, I’m not saying every single person would want to witness that level of shame from their friend. But I think the overall underlined concept is much more universal than we give credit too.

Anyways, I don’t know what else to write. I know this isn’t a very good review of the book. But I feel like the mere fact I can rant for 600 words about only a few pages, should give you a solid indication of how powerful this book is.

 

In conclusion,

10 out of 10

Will probably use it in an argument against a tree hugging hippy.

The Smiths – The Queen is Dead : A Review

I found this record when I was in High School and it’s amazing. Both as a whole and  each song individually.

-Every time I hear the Boy with the Torn in his side, I want to get up on my nine story roof during a thunder storm and scream the ending with Morrissey, while the wind and rain pour on my half opened shirt. Basically Seal in the Kiss from a Rose video, only actually a good song. It’s addicting.

-I know it’s over makes me want to run as fast as I can away from my high school girlfriend of three years who just broke up with me over a text message. I want to not just run, but FUCKING sprint until my heart gives out, because somehow at my 19 years of life, I think that is the only way I will feel better.

-Never Had No One Ever, makes me want to buy the largest bottle of Tito’s Vodka and drink it alone in my bathtub for hours. I want to yell at the wall mirror about all shitty dates I’ve had and all the girls I’ve alienated. I want to keep tipping the bottle back until I pass out in a pool in my own vomit. Losing my job, liver, and dignity all in one song.

-Big Mouth Strikes Again makes me want to make a comic flip book of the feeling that comes over you after saying said something you should’ve and flip it for the entire song. Also I want the book to show snaps of me from when I learned words to today, reminding me off all the shitty times I’ve hurt people with my words.

-Cemetry Gates reminds me of the feeling of every walk home after a great first date. It makes me want to swing around every streetlight pole and heel click over a mud puddle. There will be a homeless man on a corner that I’ll give him my no limit Citi card because, well fuck it, I feel great! What’s money, when you got a feeling like this?

As a whole, this CD makes me want to re-live every man to woman type relationship I’ve ever had in one moment. Essentially a drug that releases three thousand times more dopamine than Heroin. And I want to be so exited to take it, that I stop behind a dumpster and have my body implode on it’s self, near a pile of maggots, spewing fluid from every orifice because it can’t handle all the raw emotion these four guys made.

In short, this album is fucking amazing!

15,552,340 out of 10

Book Review: Bright Lights, Big City – Jay McInerney

I ran through this book in an entire sitting where I couldn’t sleep because I’m a dip shit who won’t buy A/C. Fuck You, I live in a city where winter last 9  months out of the year. I figured the odds were in my favor.

I started with page 1 and almost gave up aster the first paragraph. It’s all in 2nd person.  It’s not that I’m against 2nd person but it sometimes feel too much like someone yelling at me. It’s like writing in all commands all the time. I mean who the fuck am I, some one first year Army Recruit? I can think for myself.

No. I’m a reader. I’m not going to do all the things that the Michael does. Then again, he talks to a punk rock girl with a shaved head at a club when it’s 6:00am. That sounds like me.

You clever fuck you, Jay.

So I kept going. Screw it, it’s 6am , 90 degrees and only going to get hotter.

A hundred pages in I WAS HOOKED!

This man is compensating. The boose, the women, the parties, the coke. We all know it. It’s like a six sense that comes out as you turn the page. I don’t acknowledge it. You don’t acknowledge it. But it’s there and it bothers us.

When he realizes a he loves the girl that he always forgets to buy shit for and she tells him to fuck off, I realized I was this man. My friend Jen will call me tomorrow. She gorgeous, has depth, but unless I’m in a super self loathing mood, I probably won’t give a shit.

The majority of the book is centered around this idea of him and his exe wife Amanda. He remembers all these vivid emotional gems throughout the story. But towards the end he realizes he never really knew Amanda at all. It’s a simple story you can hear in line at Starbucks, but Jay paces it quite masterfully. I found myself realizing it just as Micheal did. Well done.

I won’t give away the ending, but it’s where you lost me Jay. I’ve had my fair share of break ups. Sometimes they end before they begin, but very seldom does anyone just “win” in a big way like that. Sure is the main character living in his own world, you bet your ass he his. Does this lead to everything changing, and him not recognizing it? Damn right. But all that kinda sounds like his fault, not hers.

Things seem to work out a little too perfect for Michael. Plus he gets a little needy to Tad’s sister. Why call her at the end, when it’s in the early am during the week and say a bunch of shit that doesn’t matter because you’re hopped up on Coke? We learned in a previous chapter y’all hit it off. A little bit over kill for me.

Overall, I loved this fucking book.

9 out of 10