I started this post, with a glass of red wine. With several in fact, to be honest. That is how all great monologues begin; uninhibited and well… ranty. My operating system’s spell checker tells me that ranty isn’t a word. Well, I think you know what I mean anyway, so screw you operating system.
I’ve always been a self confessed nerd. There’s no use hiding it. It doesn’t matter whether I’ve used the internet to bolster my knowledge of sport or mechanics. I just don’t care enough to pull it off in conversation. And despite the ongoing debate about nature vs nurture, I hold the opinion that no amount of environmental support would have made me any better at kicking a football towards it’s intended destination. Instead of feigning authority… I simply fess up to being a nerd, incapable of regular social intercourse. It’s not you, it’s me. Honest.
Living in Byron Bay, Australia, hippy capital of Australia, puts me in a peculiar position. On the one hand I have the pseudo scientific mumbo jumbo that comes from the new-age “spiritual” posse of the area and on the other there is the ultra-cool surfy demographic willing to throw themselves into the indiscriminate ocean in pursuit of a water based ride. Not to demean either group, which I hold in high enough regard, but I just can’t do it. I like the idea of both of course - free love and spiritual transcendence or the physically and socially rewarding surf culture both sound like perfectly edifying pursuits but I just don’t have the grapes for either. I’ve often mused that if God exists, why did he endow me with such a critical, skeptical epistemological view as to render himself non-existent? Or why if I’m so envious of the “cool” sporty types while I find more gratification in the intellectual pursuits of technology and philosophy than football and water sports.
To make matters worse, I’ve been endowed with the arrogant failure of my internal editor. Without a sense of “taboo”, I’ll happily engage my peers in conversations about politics, religion and sex where they’d rather discuss the weather, sport and local gossip. Who cares about such inane topics? Why do we fritter away our time of such inconsequential lines of inquiry? Perhaps I’ll never know, so instead I’ll probably continue to offend, rebuke and challenge my conversational partners in such exchanges. I’d rather be offended than bored. Wouldn’t you? Life’s too short to talk about the weather. Unless you are a meteorologist, in which case I’d love to pick your brains about the science.
Unfortunately I’ve imbued enough liquor to make all attempts at conclusion futile. It seemed such a good idea at the beginning, to start typing. And spellcheck certainly gives the illusion of some semblance of sobriety, but this is not the case. So instead I’ll stop here and post. I think I’m drunk enough to do that, though I may regret it later.