rock < me < hard place.

..that may be overstating things. but just a bit, and anyhow this is a blog. if i wanted to go around being proportionate and fastidiously rational all of the time, i would refer to myself as a blogonomist or a blogitist or the blogger general. but, nope, just a blogger. as such, i am free to invent crises as i see fit.

today's 2-dollar-tuesday crisis feels heavier than it might because i find myself suddenly regarding life in longer- and bigger-picture sorts of terms. fortunately this is somebody else's fault: there's a girl i keep thinking about. with me being not-so-distant from a relationship, i am something less than glib about asking her to wear my letterman's jacket. but for some gd reason i haven't been able to keep myself from drawing lifelong-compatibility hypotheticals, like picturing a wispy-haired me in a too-small leisure suit and her with laugh lines and a bad perm. ..and that is the issue: she will have laugh lines; she is familiar with joy in a way that will not dissipate with oldness. certain things you can just tell about people, you know? and certain things about yourself, too. like, i know that i shall be a sarcastic old fuck; i Will Wear Purple, too; and damned if i don't know with a pervasive, sub-atomic certainty that my old self would enjoy her old-self company--would get what old people call a "kick" out of watching her dance while i played percussion on my iron lung.

so. to put this crisis to bed, what i've decided is that i would ask her to marry me. every day. just to add it to my routine: rub eyes, get up, brush teeth, shave face, shoot her an email and ask if she wants to jaunt up to the casino and get hitched--if we left now, could make it back before lunch. when she and i are old and tired, maybe it'll be funny. either because old people like tired jokes, or 'cause it worked, and that's funny.