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by William Michaelian |
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1. These days, I have to laugh, because if I don’t, I’ll cry. The trouble is, my laughter isn’t real laughter. Hearing it makes me sad — sadder, even, than I already am. And I don’t want to be sad. I’m tired of being sad. But it seems that no matter what I do, that’s what I am — sad. And so I laugh. I laugh at my own unfunny jokes, and at the unfunny jokes of my friends, neighbors, and co-workers. It’s a painful operation, but it makes people smile, and that’s a good thing. People need to smile. But the fact that they need to smile also makes me sad. Why should they need to smile? If they were happy, wouldn’t they be smiling already? And when they do smile, I can barely hold back the tears, because their smiles make them look like their faces are going to break. 2. These days, I have to cry, because if I don’t, I’ll laugh, and if I laugh, my friends, neighbors, and co-workers will think I’m laughing at them — which I will be, because they’re behavior is amusing. To me, nothing is funnier than watching people break their necks so they can pay for the useless stuff they bought with their credit cards. And so I cry. When they ask me what’s wrong, I tell them how broke I am, and how I’ll never be able to pay my credit card bills unless I get a third job. This makes them want to laugh, but they don’t, because if they do, then they might have to admit that they, too, are looking for a third job. If they laugh, they’re afraid I’ll say something like, Oh, yeah? What about you? 3. These days, I have to ignore people, because if I don’t, I’m afraid they won’t ignore me. And if they don’t ignore me, they are apt to discover that I’m laughing, or that I’m crying, and will be duly offended or amused according to the situation. It’s easier this way for everyone concerned. As for those who aren’t concerned, I say the heck with them. Who do they think they are, anyway? What right do they have, thinking they are immune to the problems of the world? In fact, I’d be willing to bet they are the cause of the world’s problems. Look at them, smugly pushing their little buttons. Well, I have buttons too, and you don’t see me looking smug. I’m responsible for my actions, by gum. 4. These days, I don’t know what I’m talking about, because if I do know what I’m talking about, then everyone wants me to shut up. Here’s something you might not know: no one likes you if you’re smart. Oh, they pretend to like you, but that’s just because they’re trying to find a way to take advantage of your brains. They want you to make them look good. So if you are smart, I recommend not knowing what you’re talking about. It will save you a lot of trouble. If you absolutely must know what you’re talking about, then save your talking for when you’re alone. And remember, don’t write anything down or say anything into a tape recorder, because it will come back to haunt you. 5. These days, I know what I’m talking about, because if I don’t know what I’m talking about, people will laugh at me for being dumb. Here’s something you might not know: everyone likes you if you’re dumb. It’s great having dumb people around, because it makes people feel smart. If you think this sounds dumb, that’s a good sign, because it is. It’s also a good sign if people don’t like you, because that means you’re smart. But here’s one other thing you might not know: I’ve yet to meet a person who is smart enough to know how dumb he is — myself included. And if you think this sounds smart, you’re in worse shape than I am. Joking aside, being smart is a royal pain in the ptoot. Then again, so is being dumb. 6. These days, I forget what I just said, because if I don’t forget what I just said, people expect me to remember everything else. There is a nice breeze blowing this afternoon, I think it might rain. I’ve never been crazy about dark beer, but I’ll drink it all the same. My great-aunt Fiona is in the vestibule. The helicopters are coming. I rode the bus, but it didn’t go anywhere. Fallow fields fume forever following flippant flowers further from Framingham. See what I mean? Act like an idiot, and people will believe you’re an idiot. It’s quite easy, really. Give it a try. Don’t expect instant results, however. Forgetting what you said takes a little practice. What you do say has to be meaningless enough and dull enough to put everyone to sleep. That’s the key. 7. These days, I remember everything I said, because if I don’t remember everything I said, people will recognize me for the fool I really am. And while this is bound to happen someday, I’d still like to put it off a little while longer. (I know what you’re thinking. Isn’t that odd?) Also, remembering what I said reminds me that I’ve gone exactly nowhere during my stay here on earth. Is this is a good thing or a bad thing? Who knows? Who cares? I’m here, remembering, forgetting, talking, not talking, being smart and being dumb, ignoring people and being ignored. I’m here crying, and I’m here laughing. Unfortunately, I’m no better at it than I was when I started. But I know I’m not alone — or am I? William Michaelian’s newest releases are two poetry collections, Winter Poems and Another Song I Know, published in paperback by Cosmopsis Books in San Francisco. His short stories, poems, and drawings have appeared in many literary magazines and newspapers. His novel, A Listening Thing, is published here in its first complete online edition. For information on Michaelian’s other books and links to this site’s other sections, please go to the Main Page or visit Flippantly Answered Questions. |
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