It was just a little while past the sunset strip: they found the girl's body in an open pit. Her mouth was sewn shut, but her eyes were still wide, gazing through the fog to the other side. They booked me on a whim and threw me deep in jail, with no bail. Sitting silent on a rusted pail, just gazing at the marks on the opposite wall, remembering the music of my lover's call. So you make no mistake, I know just what it takes to pull a man's soul back from heaven's gates. I've been wandering in the dark about as long as sin, but they say it's never too late to start again.

When, oh when will the Spirit come a-callin' for my soul to send? When, oh when will the keys to the Kingdom be mine again?

It was dark as the grave, it was just about three when the warden with his key came to set me free. They gave me five dollars and a secondhand suit, a pistol and a hat and a wornout flute. So I took a bus down to the Rio Grande, and I shot a man down on the edge of town. Then I stole me a horse and I rode it around 'til the sheriff pulled me in and sat me down. He said, you make no mistake I know just what it takes to pull a man’s soul back from heaven’s gates. I’ve been wandering in the dark about as long as sin but they say it’s never too late to start again.

When, oh when will the Spirit come a-callin' for my soul to send? When, oh when will the keys to the Kingdom be mine again?

Well the sheriff let me go with a knife and a song, so I took the first train up to Oregon. And I killed the first man that I came upon, 'cause the devil works quick: you know it don’t take long. Then I went to the river for to take a swim: you know that black river water is as black as sin. And I washed myself clean as a newborn babe and then I picked up a rock, for to sharpen my blade.

When, oh when will the Spirit come a-callin' for my soul to send? When, oh when will the keys to the Kingdom be mine again? When, oh when will that black river water wash me clean again? When, oh when will the keys to the kingdom be mine again?

and left me here.

I'm going to get a little analytical here... but I promise you, there are plenty of sloppy emo details about my sordid personal life that will come forth as I elucidate. It'll be juicy. Stay tuned through the intellectual foppery.

Arete is a Greek word meaning, essentially, "excellence." The difference between our use of the word and the Greeks' is a grey area; some translations will use Virtue or Good instead. They might say a man had arete; they would mean maybe that he was skilled, or virtuous, or decent, but usually some combination. They might say the same of a well-built wall. It's an odd concept.

I like the concept of arete better than I like the concept of cool because... big surprise... I'm not cool.


Coolness: debatable.

I'm really not cool. Meaning, I might be kind of witty at times, and I might know a couple of interesting things, but I'm definitely not smooth. Anyone can vouch for that- my emotions are fumbling things that, when I drop my facade of being a cynical arrogant ponce, tend to spill out, in an awkward, terrifyingly naive maze of bumbling passion that mostly just surprises the stuff out of everyone except my very closest friends (and even some of those). To steal a line from Jerry Maguire: good at friendship. Bad at intimacy.

What modern people tend to like (and by people, I mean women) in relationships is someone who can be cool. Who can refrain, for a length of time determined by certain factors, express an interest in them without giving away too much- can play a game of advance and retreat, can flirt for extended periods of time without playing the fool and betraying... what? Love? Too much love?

I am not cool.


There is scientific evidence that this androgynous emo thing knows cool ways to say things to girls. I do not.

I don't believe in halfway. There is a girl- and now it's time for the tabloid secrets and yellow journalism- who I've had thoughts about for some time. And I am a man who may sometimes have the coolness of the Greeks, because I believe in a thing done well and done in excellence, but I do not have the coolness of this world, meaning I have no idea how to approach her without either giving the impression that I do not care or I care far too much. I am a man of gigantic melancholy and gigantic mirth (to steal a line from Conan). Just because you don't see it doesn't mean it's not there... Rabbit from a hat. Magic.

Let's assume a hypothetical.

Let's assume you are me, and you know you could see yourself with someone, someone who you know maybe not as well as you'd like but enough to know that she is kind, intelligent, perceptive, honest. Let's assume you have, from time to time, attempted to make something happen- but you were too wary of spilling your emotional damage all over her to make a serious move that would have mattered. And then let's assume that you discover that you have waited for far too long, and she's about to go to, let's say, hypothetically, Korea, in a matter of scarce weeks, for a hypothetical year.

What would you do?


To demonstrate the distance between Korea and North Carolina, start at this picture and begin walking to your right until you have walked exactly one fuckillion miles.

There are two courses of action. You can shrug. You can say, well, it wouldn't be very cool to say anything at this point- the timeframe, the fact that you barely see her, the confusing nature of the fact that if you had said feelings, why didn't you act on them or at least attempt to see her during the years you've known her, et cetera. You can shrug it all off, better luck next time, where's the next girl. Or you can say...

I know I'm going to make a fool of myself but I might as well do something because frankly the worst that can happen is I can look like a fool. You can say, all right, this is the wrong time, the wrong place, and we have the wrong relationship for me to say I approve of you absolutely, and feel an unyielding affection for you and the things that you do.

I chose, of course, the latter path. And I did indeed get a reaction that I estimate was about fifty percent bafflement and forty percent concern for my emotional/mental health. The other ten percent, well. I don't know what the other ten percent is. Probably somebody who is cooler than me could say, but I really don't know, because while I think arete can tell me what the right thing to do is, it cannot, as opposed to coolness, tell me what to make of the outcome.

I suggested- and how strange is this?- but I suggested that given the circumstances I might write her. While she's away. A correspondence to better know one another. Because this is neither the time nor the current relationship-state to go boyfriending and girlfriending around. She reacted positively to this, and that's what I wanted to hear, because really let's face it there was no more optimal outcome at this time- unless she was to burst suddenly into declarations of undying eternal adoration, which was definitely not going to be happening because I am probably at best a minor player in her life at this point.

So. Point is. I'm not cool because I don't know how to do this sort of thing, but I guess I'd rather not be cool. Because if I was cool, I would have played a game with it, and I would have lost, because I'm not good at games. And at least this way I can say: Yeah. I did it. It wasn't smooth but it was true. And I'll take the virtue of expressing even foolish sentiment over the falsification of considered, calculated emotion any time.


This guy was young when this entry began.

Now I know everybody stopped reading forty-eight pages ago, but I'd like to know what you think.

Girls, if this happened to you, your reactions on how insane I am?

And boys, well, I know you're all laughing behind your hands at the guy who doesn't have any game pursuing the unattainable object, and you're probably right to do so, but the mitigating factor in my defense is that she's really fucking hot. And beautiful too. Both. Not one or the other: actually both. So, boys, do you know what I'm talking about, or do you think I'm just as crazy?

So?

Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.

Listen and believe in The Standards.