Man Sees Blimp
A man saw a blimp, while walking to the store the other day. This event took place this last Tuesday, on the 15th of the month.
It was a Goodyear Blimp. ”Wow, cool, a Goodyear Blimp; haven’t seen one of those in a while!” the man thought. He watched the massive airship coasting through the sky, moving yet unmoving, and briefly imagined a different, simpler life as a blimp pilot. The blimp moved on through the clouds and, eventually, disappeared.
The man was excited, and assumed he would tell his girlfriend about the blimp as soon as he got home, but then, upon arriving home, he opened his mouth, and found that the words would not come. “…I saw a blimp.” It was exciting to him, but would not be exciting to her. Seeing a blimp was a rare event, but not that rare; not rare enough, since it also sort of happened to people a lot, and plus, he hadn’t crafted a funny anecdote about it or anything.
He found that he couldn’t just gush the words “I saw a blimp!” And if he couldn’t tell his girlfriend, then surely it wasn’t interesting enough to bother anyone else with, since girlfriends are usually the most forgiving when it comes to bad anecdotes.
And so, he had seen a blimp, but he couldn’t really tell anyone.
Later on, he got depressed for a while.
Then, this feeling of depression broadened and deepened, until he imagined the feeling of depression overtaking the entire earth, like a creature in a 1950s monster-movie. A small thing that had landed from the sky, from outer space — that was what the feeling of depression was like at first. But then, the feeling broadened and deepened; spreading until it wrapped the entire world in its tentacles. Like a thing from outer space.
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It started with a right swipe, a little green heart. Tinder of course.
Though I acknowledge and appreciate the differences in human experiences, and while your heartbreak is (and always will be) uniquely and completely your own, I must urge you to consider that I have been where you are.
With his hat cocked back, body tilted away from his cane, and right forefinger pointing directly at his audience, Joseph Ducreux commands the attention of those viewing his self-portrait.
I was born in 1990; he was born in 1973. I’m 23; he just turned 40.