September 23, 2005
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So, my friend Jasmine says I'm an alien.
Somehow this doesn't suprise me.
Actually, I'm more suprised about not being suprised. The whole thing
started over a discussion about my distaste for mushrooms - not the
trippy psychadelic sort, tsk- the squishy, fungusy, spores in your
pores nasty kind. I don't care if it's shittake and supposedly good for
me, or a mushroom was even waved over my dinner, I'm picking every last
trace off of my plate. This is what i was in the middle of doing (that
and making scrunchy bleeecch faces), when Jas brought up the subject."How come you don't like mushrooms?" she asked.
"Cos they're gross and it's like chewing on dead brains," i
replied. Really, i just think they taste stale and mouldery, and i
associate them with moss and wierd insects. it's a texture thing, maybe.She then asked whether i liked eggplant (no) or various other earthy, squelchy edibles. Sushi, (gasp!)
no. Seaweed anything, firmly no. Most shellfish, definitely not.
Nothing you can pick up at low tide, either. I wouldn't really call
myself a particularly fussy eater, but I'm sure there are plenty of
other alien-qualifying distastes i happen to harbor, undiscovered.on a side note, I mean, aside from a longtime habit of being perfectly fine playing by myself,
a certain degree of social awkwardness, and a lifelong game of watching
human behavior from a kinda bemused, objective viewpoint, i pretty much just figured i was a
shy kid with dorky tendencies. But here is so much more to it!But this is the part where the conversation got really brilliant, and
confirmed my long malingering beliefs that i am not actually a human
being at all. As the story goes, sometime ago Jasmine's friend,
who also does not eat fungus, eggplant, and slimy things out from under
rocks, consulted a psychic channeler. She was told that she was indeed
an old soul, but not one from this planet. Whoaaa.
We're talking intergalactic reincarnation, here (Related questions: How
does one's karma transfer across light years? Do they have a database
for all that somewhere? Can I drive the mothership next time?). And
apparently, one's palate is directly influenced by their planet of
origin, specifically, REINCARNATED ALIENS DO NOT EAT MUSHROOMS.This is pretty profound, for me, you know? Because now, after a whole
lifetime of feeling like a lost tourist in a bad neighborhood, i can
finally embrace my alienness. Alienocity? Alienation. yes, alienation,
that's the word. When y'all do stupid stuff like drink bubble tea, or
get in your SUV's to drive fifty feet down to the mailbox, or
stubbornly refuse to acknowledge that your actions directly affect the
ecosystem you live in, then I can just pretend that your species is
stupid and culturally inept and you can't help yourselves, bahaha. I do
like the art and music scene around here, though. I think i'm gonna buy
some earth postcards today to transmit home. Over and out.
Comments (4)
But are you a Ziggy Stardust kind of alien? An ET type? Faggy and gray like the alien from American Dad? Scary and slimy like the ones from Independence Day? That's the real question here.
klaatu barada nikto!
Hey, ya put a smile back on my face.
I'm an alien but I must not be reincarnated, I like a few on my pizza. Just a few though, and they aren't necessary at all. I occasionally order them on it when I'm with a greedy poop who'll help himself to it, and he hates them, but I could sure live without them. I have to pick them out of about anything else.
I prefer to think I am, or was, one of the ethereal lanky sort from Close Encounters. Like, I can rock the telepathy mojo and I'm here hanging out to inflict all kinds of benevolence on the planet.
But maybe I'm just the kind that is gonna abduct yo'ass and prod you with big needles. All in the name of galactical exploration!
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