The band Nirvana once had a song entitled “I Hate Myself and Want to
Die.” This song was not released on any of their major albums. However,
this song is an excellent example of the concept known as being “on the
nose.” In fact, this song title was a little too on the nose, as Kurt Cobain hated himself so much that he killed himself a year after writing the song.
…In connection with this, I am now trying to think of examples in my
life where I was too on the nose, as poor Kurt Cobain was too on the
nose. Once, I insulted a fat girl by calling her “fat.” In a similar
vein, I once insulted a white trash guy by calling him “white trash.” I
could have used many other insults, but it is unforgivable in life to
say exactly what a person is. If I had called the girl “a bitch,” I
could have maybe been forgiven. Likewise if I had just called the guy “a
jerk.” As it was though, I was not forgiven. The guy punched me in the
face. The girl never let me enter her house again.
(And by the way, if you need another example of being too on the
nose, here is one: some of you may have read the title of this essay and
thought that it was on the topic of noses. It is obviously not an essay
about that. But if this essay “On the Nose” had been on the nose, then this essay on the nose would have been too on the nose, if you follow me. Anyway.)
…In life, you should probably strive to avoid being too on the nose.
Here is an example of that, and of what you should avoid doing. Say that
you are in love with a girl, but you are worried that she might break
up with you. Avoid, then, saying this to her: “Honey, I love you
absolutely and if you ever abandoned me I would spend the next three
months sleeping on the couch in a suicidal pot-induced trance. I would
abandon this trance only occasionally to get Chinese food leftovers from
the fridge or to order more Chinese food, or to masturbate. But I would
be masturbating to your image, and I would fail to masturbate
successfully, and I would cry. I would check your Facebook 10,000 times
and interpret every comment and picture as a sign that you are dating a
newer hotter guy. A photo of a cat? Is that a new cat? Did he give that to her? I would think to myself. Going out to dinner? Is she going out to dinner with him?
Such would be my thoughts. I would attempt to hack into your Gmail.
Many, many times I would attempt to hack into your Gmail. I would
attempt to guess your password based on random stray remarks that you
have made about things that you are affectionate about, making such
password guesses as ‘Dostoyevskylover1′ and ‘poodlegirl.’ These guesses
would all be unsuccessful and I would know that they would be
unsuccessful, but they would help fill up the empty moments of my
abandoned life. In short, as I said before, you leaving me would drive
me to the brink of suicidal despair and beyond. So don’t ever leave me,
darlin’, for that is how I feel about you.”
Such comments are, of course, entirely accurate. Unfortunately, they
are far too on the nose and will creep the girl the fuck out. So instead
of saying something like that, say something like this: “Hey I really like those new shoes that you’re wearing.” See? Much better and not so on the nose.
The difference between these two comments may seem like a subtle one
to you. But it is exactly on such subtle distinctions that our entire
civilization is founded. …Indeed, many people would argue that this is
all that “civilization” really is: avoiding saying what it is
that you are actually thinking about something. However, you should
probably avoid pointing out such a thing in conversation — because doing
that would be way too on the nose.
http://thoughtcatalog.com/2012/on-the-nose/
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Welcome to Dumpsville — Population: You. Breaking up is hard to do,
but not that hard, because I just don’t like you anymore. But how to
signify that in an easy way? Here are the methods by which I indicate to
my significant other that I am “just not that into them” anymore. They
are listed in order of increasing intensity. I hope that they work as
well for you as they have for me:
- I respond to at least 40% of your interjections with the following word: “Huh.”
- I build a small fort in the center of the living room out of blankets, pillows, and a table, and name it “Oliver’s Place.” I spend a lot of time there. Not sure why exactly. I just feel safer and more secure there.
- When we watch the movie Star Wars I quote all the dialogue along with the movie in real time, instead of just letting you watch the damn movie. All the dialogue, even terrible and obscure pieces of dialogue like “Thank the maker! This oil bath is going to feel so-ooo good.”
- I no longer attempt to craft my anecdotes or select them with any care, instead subjecting you to stories like The Time My Plane Sat on the Runaway for Three Damn Hours, or That Time I Went to the Dentist for a Cleaning.
- I express a new interest in horrendously boring yet solitary hobbies: weaving, macramé, pop-topping, learning how to play the lute.
- I begin to actively express my true lustful thoughts for Keira Knightly. …Oh, Keira.
- I begin to express my internal monologue to our cat, in which said activity you sometimes catch me. “I dunno, cat, how I feel about things right now.” “When I look at her, cat, her eyes just seem dead to me.“
- I only ever cook you plain pasta with sauce, the easiest, boringest, and most passive-aggressive-est thing to cook.
- I email Mark Zuckerberg and ask if he can make “Wavering” a new Facebook relationship status.
- I ask if your sister is still married to that dude or if she’s back on the market now.
- I actively fantasize about alternative paths that my life could have taken, but because I met you, my life did not take those paths: “I bet I would have made a good Senator. Or President. I could be the President. ‘The State of the Union is Strong.’ See? I can do that. Or, ‘These pundits and analysis want to slice-and-dice us, divide us into Red States and Blue States. But I say to you all today: we are one nation.’ …See how easy that is? But instead I’m here with you. Or I could have been that guy who does voice-overs for movie trailers. I mean really, how hard could that be…?”
- This is an important one: I send you an actual email or leave you a voicemail informing you that I am breaking up with you.
- I start extolling the virtues of celibacy via various social media outlets.
- I start blocking you on various social media outlets.
- Via email, I cede complete ownership of the cat to you, even though I love that f-cking cat more than you do, but whatever. Anything. Anything that you want.
- I spend so much time on macramé to distract myself from the break-up — which really, come on, it really should be over by now — but I do so much macrame that I actually do become good at macramé. (But I remain only barely competent with the lute.)
- I move to a country wherein umlauts and gravé accent marks are used over the vowels.
- Oh please god make it stop.
- Various law enforcement authorities are notified.
- I get married to a girl. Or possibly a guy at this point — whichever — in which case I move to Provincetown where I open a macramé store. I have children, or adopt them. I develop a deep and loving bond with my life-partner. The children grow; I grow. For the first time in my life, I develop a real and lasting sense of calm. I am able to walk in the garden and stare at our old oak tree and empty my mind, and think nothing more than: “I am standing in the garden. I am looking at the old oak tree. This is good.” I settle into my autumn years. My life has changed and I reflect back on it all, how my children have grown and are pieces of me but are different pieces than I could ever have imagined. Life is life. I am happy. Please stop texting me.
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