I was born normal. Details are sketchy, partly because I’ve never sat there and thought. Hmm, this would be a nice time to put the chicken wing down, call my Dad and ask about the day I was born. I know it was a Thursday, or past midnight on Wednesday. But from the fact that I have a birth certificate, with the name of a hospital and not GPS coordinates of a river bank, I believe it was a normal birth.
It becomes rather interesting then when, at age 26-ish, I’ve been called weird almost 1000 times (figure may vary based on inflation). I don’t eat glass, no. That was some French guy I saw on the dumbest Guinness world records. Admittedly when I eat, it’s hard to understand what witchcraft is at play. It’s like quantum physics, a lot of food goes into this small vessel and releases no tangible effects. No extra heat, fat, energy, nothing. It is just released as a shadow of itself, usually in the morning, at times with a sigh.
Was that weird? I’ll probably stop asking. This is a monologue of sorts, a polite rant. I was once staring at traffic from the balcony of the flat I like to call, my flat. Traffic at this time was heavy, as it was every day at that time. But I wasn’t just staring like someone without the ability to look at meaningful things. My brain, who I like to call my namesake AKA Brain, was processing what we call random stuff.
Brain; there’s something about this traffic, I don’t know. But let me rub your chin a bit”
Brian; As Brain rubs my chin I know what you’re trying to do. You want to find something almost no one would think of while staring at traffic. And by that, create a conversational ripple effect. A different way for people to look at traffic.
Brain; stop thinking, that’s my job
So the staring continued, fancy cars driven by sexy ladies distracted me a bit. It was a Friday, and it was getting dark. Oh how a warm body would be nice. Maybe she could lie on my clothes and leave them less creased. Or on me, and leave a part of me less creased, I dunno. But at this point, Brain had a light bulb moment.
Brain; I’ve got it
Brian; What, a way to move this Friday from the balcony to one of those ladies’ thighs?
Brain; Shh, you’re weird you know. Now, look at the exit of that basement parking lot.
I turn my gaze about 10 degrees left, or south, whatever. I notice two cars, parked next to each other. A red Audi A7 and blue VW GTI. Both were waiting for a gap in the traffic so they could join the rest of the commuters. But the wait was taking a while, and the cars started to look good together. It’s like they developed feelings for each other. At this point I turned to my boy, who was standing next to me all this time;
Brian; Imagine if cars could fuck, and you get a mix of an Audi and a VW. People would be getting together because they want a mixed car breed…….
MyBoy; Dafaq, you’re weird bruh
At this point, I had to explain how we got here. And Brain wasn’t cooperating. Apparently, as these thoughts were being fired up by Brain, Brian was sipping Heineken.