The Dangerous Mind of Dan Luke

I spent the eve of my 20th Birthday splattered onto the cushions of my couch.  I hate them, my body sogs and melts into them as it stretches apart into more and more fat rolls.  Watching television, watching movies, playing video games… these days anything that requires me to sit makes me feel like I’m aging.  As if I didn’t drink enough milk as a child, leading me to have some kind of horrific calcium deficiency that causes my bones to grind up into powder; my hips to crack out of place.  I’m starting to feel like an artifact and I’m only twenty.

But anyway, so I’m slouched into my couch cushions watching The Food Network.  You know, I keep seeing all of these television shows about 30 year old women with dwindling sex lives that watch the Food Network in between menstrual cycles and even thought it is scary as fuck I am starting to feel like those women.  It sucks.  They’re thirty, I mean I should have at least another ten years before I do that.  So I change the channel and listen to Sue Johnson talk about sex.  This old relic is all dolled up like some sort of 1920’s tart in a navy blue slim fitting suit and curled old lady hair, all she needs is a bonnet and a ticket to the Titanic.  She is taking a call from a young girl in Alabama, or somewhere, who is explaining that her boyfriend is Mexican and he likes spicy food (who saw that coming) and that sometimes her boyfriend likes to put hot sauce on her vagina.

Yes that’s right.  He likes to slather hot sauce all over her pussyhole.  He loves it.  But she is wondering if it is bad.

In between giggle fits and triumphant shouts of “Tee-hee,” between myself and the television I pause for a moment to reflect on this.  Not the chick that lovingly allows her boyfriend to slather hot sauce on her vagina, but the audacity of the situation.  Is this who I am?  Is this what I like to do?

Where will I stand?

I never really gave any of this thought over my 20 years of existence.  But the days of freeloading, heavy drinking, reckless chasing of women, playing video games, writing, and watching late night infomercials about a head shaver that utilizes both a vacuum and razor (I am always in fear that it is going to slice open the cranium of the child it is being demonstrated on and then suck out his brain) really have not lead anywhere.  I have all these thoughts, all of these worries, rants, monologues, and pages and pages of content, but what have I really said?  Where do I stand?

This may be a nihilist attitude of sorts.  Yeah, I think celebrities are stupid:  So I write about it.  Yeah:  I think people are dumb:  So I write about it.  But what do I really contribute?  What have I really done?  What have I fought to change?

I’ve always prided myself on the thought that I am “entertaining” people with a website.  But I am doing no such thing.  I’m just trying to be heard.  I’m a very angry person and I want people to know about it.  But that isn’t a stance.  That isn’t a point of view.  That’s just an emotion.  And it motivates everything that is humerous about me.

And it’s been preventing me from growing.  It’s been forcing me to be this thoughtless person, bouncing from day to day, never forming fully articulated thoughts - just always getting so mad I have to stop thinking about it and end the deal with some joke.  Just making these little commercials in my head, devoid of any deeper meaning.

And on my couch, no longer cackling at Sue Johnson I sit quietly.  20 years and this is still funny to me.  And it may always be that way.  I may always be that way.  And I guess this is where I will stand.

Filed under: Personal Entry, Season 2