Wednesday, October 13, 2004

   Boredom
Okay, I really liked this story, so I wanted to share it with you all...I'll write something meaningful later.

CHIPS
Jim Esch


I'm sitting in my couch watching television, and there's a bag of chips between the arm of the couch and my leg. The bag's clinging to me like a balloon clings to a wall. Has that static electricity feel to it. Can't seem to fend it off. And I don't know if I want it off yet. My arm feels like a club and the end of my arm, my hand, feels like a shovel, like a tonka toy shovel, and it's dipping and digging into the bag, taking one chip at a time out of the bag into my mouth. And I ask myself as I'm watching television, why am I doing this to myself.

I finally, actually start to think about the flavor of the chip, and how grotesque it truly is. The salt scum, the sandy dust, the chemical particles clinging, dried milk and cheese and salt and spices you can't name and chemicals they're still trying to think up names for -- clinging, coating the chip; wrapped all around it, and you keep putting them into your mouth. I put one into my mouth. I ingest it as I'm watching television. All of my life I've been putting them into my mouth.

And they say, you know, on the ads, they say you can't just eat one, and it seems to be true. Why is that true? Because the flavor overwhelms; it overpowers you. The flavor's not good, it simply muscles over you, it destroys your taste buds. And a feeling lingers that if only I had one more chip, I would satisfy my hunger for this flavor...and the next one doesn't do it. It's like some mythological myth of Sisyphus trap -- you can never get to the mountain top, the mountain top being "flavor satisfaction" -- it won't happen. Along with this there's the rhythm of the crunch, the periodic rhythm of the perfect chip crunch. It's the same with popcorn -- the popcorn crunching in your mouth, you can't get enough of it, you have to keep doing it, and you keep reaching in and reaching in. Again. Your hand shovels in and pries out another chip. One at a time.

I'm sitting there watching television. I don't remember what I watch. It doesn't matter, it hasn't mattered, it didn't matter yesterday. All that mattered was eating those chips until the whole bag was gone. Like some furious madman repeating a mantra -- "North is the opposite of South; East is the opposite of West. North is the opposite of South; East is the opposite of West"...having to remind himself of that by repeating it as he walks down the street, as he goes to the bus stop. And you're doing this, i.e. I am doing this as I sit in my couch watching television -- some show, I can't seem to remember what it's about.

Then it strikes me that each chip I eat brings back all the other chips I had ever eaten, that these Doritos have been there all through time as I grew up and matured and became socialized. Maybe you had that experience as you met your girlfriend for the first time. Maybe there was a bowl of Doritos on the table at the party. Sitting in a basket perhaps in a nest of paper towels, and you pulled the chip out and you put it in your mouth and you crunched and you asked her what her major was, or you asked her what she was doing next Friday, or you discussed your favorite movies, or you said 'I like that group too', and she said 'I play the saxophone too'. 'You wanna listen to my Coltrane records?' And you kept eating the chips.

Or when you met your friends when they got their new house; you brought over a bag of Doritos because it seemed like the thing to do. It was acceptable; it was safe. Or when you went on picnics with your grandparents and you sat in the backyard and your grandmother was lying in the hammock and your grandfather was flipping burgers and hot dogs and you had Doritos on the picnic table and you had potato salad and you had buns and you had ketchup and mustard and it all seemed right. That comes back to you. The voice of your grandmother laughing as she reaches for another chip and falls out of the hammock, and you remember that. You were worried that she was going to break her hip but she wasn't old enough for that yet. Then it strikes you that she's no longer here.

Or maybe you got stoned out of your mind and you were out with your buddies when you should have been with your girlfriend because she needed you. And you had the munchies and you went to a convenience store and the first thing you saw was a bag of Doritos and you grabbed it and you ate the whole bag and you didn't save one chip for her by the time you got back. That comes back to you.

You reach into the bag and get another one out. And you think of the times when neither of you wanted to cook. So you got a frozen pizza and you threw it in the oven and you split it in half and then because you were too lazy to make potatoes or a casserole you just had a bag of Doritos and you put that on a paper plate on the side. And you both sat there at the kitchen table staring at the woodgrains in the table surface. And you didn't talk about it. That comes back.

All these Doritos chips -- is it a crutch? Maybe it's a crutch. A hobby-horse. Maybe it's just THERE as you wade your way through life. It's a flashpoint. One man's chip is another man's rifle is another man's automobile is another man's guitar is another man's record collection is another man's jogging habit is another man's religion. It just comes back and you can't get rid of it. You try to stop. Now I eat these chips alone. I watch television shows. The TV always seems to be on, and I don't know why I can't turn it off. I don't know why I can't stop eating the chips. It's not a joke anymore. It's not that I have an eating disorder. I'm not obese. But I know it's bad for me. And I know that each chip in going back over it is bad for me but I can't break the cycle. I can't break the rhythm, it's like a march that I can't fall out of step with.

One of these days if I ever wise up. I'll shake off the bag clinging to my arm and turn off the television. Unplug it. I'll put the television in the attic, or I'll sell it. I'll write a little note and I'll put it in a supermarket and someone will call and take the television away. Then I'll be left with my couch and Doritos.

I'll look down at the bag, and there'll be maybe twelve chips left, and I'll say. NO MORE. I'll crumple the bag and get that static feel off my leg and off the hairs on my arm, off my skin. I'll destroy the bag. I'll just throw it away. I'll take a big jug of water and I'll wash all the salt dust scum of that so-called cool ranch flavor, which isn't cool at all, which is salty and spicy and sandpapery -- I'll just wipe it all away with bottle after bottle of water. I'll say to myself I'm never going to eat that way again, that there's gotta be more to being here than always having chips at your fingertips.



aluve'


You are D. You're a badass, but not egotistical.
You try not to connect with people because you
are afraid you might hurt them. You have an
awesome hat.


What Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust character are you?
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