Thursday, June 02, 2005

The truest things are said in jest

The professor paused her lecture about Irish cinema (today's special: The Crying Game) to inform the class "somebody [was] snoring." I think it might've been me, in the back, slumped low in my seat.

I had been in limbo, listening to another hour-long snoozefest by this Italian shiksa. I didn't even think I snored since I've never been accused of it without being sick. So here I was, completely paranoid, asking those around me if the professor was indeed referring to me. The guy who sat two rows behind me said he heard someone, but didn't see anyone sleeping. The guy who sat two seats to my left said he didn't hear me and that it might've just been someone blowing their nose (consecutively? Hard to believe). So my fears were laid to rest, yet I couldn't help thinking it was me and the chick sitting to my right couldn't have been bothered to give me a courtesy poke.



I was sitting on the metro when in walked this 5'10 blonde dolled up like a famished porn star in Lucite heels. I bit my lip to contain myself upon observing the way men in the car were staring at her like an anatomical ideal (or oddity, as the case may be). By the time she got off at the next station, they had reconfigured their previous seating arrangements to get a better view of her out the window, systematically following her every stride with a bounce of their heads and turn of their necks, craning to sustain the moment. Then, when the train started moving again, everyone went back to whatever they were doing before she entered (reading the newspaper, sleeping, praying for a rise without going blind). I had to look at an adjacent orange wall to subdue myself during this farcical scene. It was like something out of a Spike Jonze-directed episode of the Twilight Zone where I somehow gained entry to the backdoor of the alpha gaze.


Readerdroid commented how she's never seen me laugh before. (Not that I don't because I do and often, thankyouverymuch). It's just that, she says, I only laugh when I'm with people already laughing to what I said.

Everyone's always on my case about that; she's just the latest one. I can't help that I'd rather make a good crack than listen to a bad one (that, unenviably, leads to a period of awkward silence). Actively laughing out of courtesy (to save the poor boy's ego) isn't something I'd brag about, but it's true that people rarely genuinely amuse me (professional shit stirrers notwithstanding). I don't glean pleasure from making digs at easy targets, I suppose. Reactionaries are a dime a dozen.

I generally find people too wound up and self-conscious to be funny; it takes less work to be predictable. Ironically, a trained mind is a spontaneous mind exactly because it takes work to transform life's shortcomings into party performance material.

But I digress. I simply don't find all that many people entertaining. Everyone says they have a sense of humour, but where's their comic timing?

No comments: