An ode to glue.

When I left Peru, I thought I’d never get over Patti. Scratch that, even when I was in Peru I thought I’d never get out of Patty. I did write love letters to other staff members at Inabif but everyone knew my heart wasn’t really in it. I just did it because I thought maybe there reciprocated loving would cure me of the pain that she caused me. In the end, they didn’t reciprocate any of the love thus never even potentially curing me of my heartache and that’s okay too. It was the thought that counts. Obviously I have lots of thoughts about them and they think I’m that weird white guy. That’s giving them a lot of credit that they even thought about me period but I digress. The point isn’t Peru. The point isn’t Patty. The point is the future. The future is glue. Is glue a euphemism you ask? Is glue some spanish word for a sexy chica? It’s not. You know what glue is? It’s what Elmer has. It’s white and you use it to stick things together. I don’t think I need to describe what glue is. People know what glue is. But people probably don’t know that you can love the inanimate. Actually, not entirely sure what audience I have for the blog so it might be people who specifically only know how to love the inanimate. Those people are weird. We’re not talking about them. We’re talking about me. A person who’s evolved to such a plane of existence where he doesn’t need the love of a woman who spurned him, I’ve found that I can just be as happy with glue. What’s so good about glue you ask? Have you gotten glue on you? If so, continue reading. If not, get the hell off this page. Pulling that dried glue off your hand is like a snake shedding it’s skin. Underneath is pristine, brand new, baby esque skin. Don’t ask the science behind this because I’d probably be contradicted if you did. The only downside to glue is that it sure does take a while to dry. I noticed this especially when I wrote out my entire name in glue on my hand and then some child had the audacity to grab my hand. She did not look too happy when she got to enjoy the gift of glue alongside me. Her loss. Getting glue on your hand should never be met with disgust. If you weren’t expecting in the slightest though? Who cares? Still glue! Still elicits joy. And yes, I did have quite a few moments where I just thought about that all I need for happiness is a big bowl and a big ol’ glob of glue. Just stick my hands in there and then set them under a heat lamp (or whatever dries glue the fastest) and then get to peeling. Oh golly, that peeling. Oh golly, I say! Oh golly, I’m essentially screaming from the rooftops for glue. Sorry Patty. You’ve been glued. That is really not on the level of an Arnold Schwarzenegger one liner that I had hoped it would be. Either way, I finally feel free. I feel like my heart both magically repaired itself and then opened today. I’ve let glue into my heart. And you know what? It’s pretty sticky. I don’t think it’s going anywhere. So it goes.


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