Is a Sweaty Nutcracker
My content is not satisfied
but it was once, true or
false? Turns out, it’s a
strange and beautiful
world, this all-too-
happening planet.
I am intent upon
taking you some
where. Is the
journey pleasant?
Please fill in the blank.
Are your customers sat
isfied? I mean, I know
you’d never fill out the
survey (I told our market
ing guys to just take you
off the list, but I know
when you receive them
in your bloated inbox –
I get pinged every single
time) because some things
work and some things do not.
And then we’re down to the
specifics and it’s like we’re
living that feeling of help
lessness all over again.
And who wants to do that?
Oh, I kvetch. I bitch and
moan. And, you know,
what if I actually believe
that I provide fairly un
wavering top-notch
customer service
and yet – let’s face it,
the truth about any sat
isfaction I do or do not
provide lies within the
skulls and the chest
cavities of others.
I’ve been working on
my presentation. Half
a century mingling amongst
humanity, what a sullen word,
amongst the citizenry, almost
entirely unable to portray any
one but someone you can’t help
but like, is interesting, is complex,
slightly mischievous, at ease
with the performed efficacy of
being earnest, knowing when
to wall up and when to be too
revealing – right! No matter
that the entire script is written
and performed to break down
everything; that fourth wall
doth confuse, doth skew the
portrayal into something so
other that it’s often the opp
osite of authorial intent.
“This ain’t me you see,”
I want to scream at you
all, every last one of you.
But I’m much more left-
brained than my passion
must (might? probably
does not in the least) con
vey; I can do that math.
The sum of me has
very little to do with
who I think I am.
But if I never
meet the guy
who lives inside
my skin, it won’t
be because I did
not try. Nope. I
figure, until or
unless I’m pro
vided a more
enticing distrac
tion, if I never
crack the nut
that finally re
veals my very
essence, I will
surely have
died trying.
