Because It's Better To Be Irrational With Me Than Rational With Someone Else

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Because I Need To Stop Writing Ten Entries A Day

i'm sitting in front of him. in silence. both of us. silence. we were concentrating on different things, both things that needed to be concentrated on.

"i need to get myself a sweet-ass toolset." i break the silence.
he looks up interested.
"i thought you had one already. constantly talking about hammering this and that."
"yea, but i left my good tools in PA." i say.
"what kind of tools did you have?"
"the standard set. you know, your hammers. mallets. torches. screw drivers. power drills..." i list.
"torches?!"
"yea, i did metalsmithing. do metal art in my free time."
"what other tools did you have?"
"wrenches, dremels, pliers..." i list and slowly trail off lowering the volume of my voice until it's almost inaudible, "chainsaw...axe.."
"CHAINSAW?! you had a CHAINSAW?"
"not really... i was just wondering if you'd hear that."
"actually, i wouldn't put it past you."

and then he continues asking me about my art.

girl who is a physical chemist who is a metalsmith who is a painter who is a computer programmer who is a car enthusiast who is your standard guy's dream.

11:57 a.m. - October 12, 2008

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