Monday, April 2, 2007

hopin she'd understand,knowin she would.

before i go on to prove that she is by far the best of everything that was ever thought to be relevant in evaluating the necessity of the female species to all human endeavor, let me get something very very clear. she is perfect. notwithstanding, the expression of interest in trying to be a better person and the urgent need for self-improvement to meet my exacting standards, crap she came up with in the piece below. she is perfect. if you had tons of the most bad ass gelatin wired around my head, handed over the trigger to a Russian with bad breath and gold teeth, and made him smile his best "i have a thing for blowing up brains" smile, and tried to make me say anything else, it'd just have to say this. she is perfect. and yeah, pray for a quick death. how do you tell the best from the usual good? how do you know you are dealing with divine intervention in the middle of a pretty fucked up mortal environment? my friend, this is not hyperbole. this is unusual phenomena we are dealing with here. forget aliens.forget spontaneous body combustion. forget youtube. this's been a recurrent irritant, really. i mean, all those who've no idea what we can do to each other, or why we have this serene, a million pleasure bubbles circulating up our nervous system, smile on our faces when we think of us, and all thats gone by and all that's up for grabs? she is perfect. fuel and foil. lemme paraphrase here. she thinks she is quite something? lemme give you an oxford press, a very short, brutally honest take on what she really is.

she is beautiful. no wait, am not fawning here. she is. beautiful like ambient rock. like random inspiration. ok, the first three words i ever said to her,ever?

"you are stunning".

ok, she claims i said shit too,somewhere in the middle of being taken aback by how pretty she was, when i first saw her. i protest. indignantly. must have been the heat. or maybe i was just plain incredulous. for,it was a close encounter with the angelkind.

she is smart. so smart, she scares me sometimes. and some other times, she plain shoots me down. for she lives by the belief that disagreement is the best form of argument. and that she was made to win.everything she ever chose to win. and the worst part? she actually manages to do it. and completely legitimately at that.yeah, she pulls some cheap shots sometimes, but if i choose to forgive that,consider me beaten and dead. she hates to lose and i love to let her win. has an incredible I.Q of 136. now, thats some 30 times mine. psst.she made it to the high IQ club, this obsessively selective band camp, that trips on einstein's voice on repeat. she lets you air your opinion as long as you are prepared to die a soldier's death. for when she picks up a fight, she packs some real juice into some of her iron-fisted punches.

uppercut.rabbit punch.killer jab. knockdown.

ok, the final feather in her overflowing. gaudy, bird-house of a cap? she made it to the university of minnesota, on a fellowship. before you pooh-pooh that, consider this. she is the only woman,and am sure the youngest, to be awarded the somerfeld fellowship for the year 2006-07. now hows that for the world's first sexy geek?

i am ready to put it down, the post below,where she whines about the uneasiness or somethin about being perfect, to lack of nutrition, depressing lighting, and her genetic identity. but she's gotta see, without me helpin her out, that i don't hate her for any of her shortcomings. that the reason, i snap at her, is because i am this maniacally hard taskmaster. i mean, i just can't seem to take the fact that, somebody so outrageously gifted, can sometimes be so inventively stupid. i want her to push her nose up, and crush regular,stupid humanity. only because, she can do it. for, being kind may help you win the nobel. but out in the streets, its make way or.blast away.

for all the talk of her being this super gifted ,wonderwoman. she is a real baby. quirky,sassy,hard to please. hates to cry, and manages to do just that, once a day. all it takes to make her twist her lip, pout and refuse to have dinner, is my stupid raised voice. hate myself like i just murdered johnny depp,these times. its strange. how much i love mothering her. how much i want her to mother me. when the conversation morphs into a nursery rhyme, when i babytalk like i was just let off my prep-school session. i have no idea how we manage so beautifully.from across all these miles. but i do want her to know. that it could as well be because. she is perfect.

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