I’ve been vexed all day.
The lion’s share is due to my having heard some news that has been eating away at me almost without me consciously realizing it. My bad mood just snuck up. Fuck you, damn news. (Sorry, that was uncalled for. I blame my mood.)
On top of what is really bothering me, there are the little things. Missing yoga. Screaming kid on the subway. That sort of thing. Nothing major, but because I’m already in a lousy frame of mind, all these unimportant things seem more annoying. And on top of all that is what I’d like to refer to as The Knuckle Cracking Incident, but unfortunately will no doubt be the Daily Knuckle Cracking Incident.
I despise the sound of knuckles cracking. It makes my skin crawl. Even if I normally like to be around someone, it makes me want to run. By the way, this is probably valuable information in case we are ever together and you want to get rid of me quickly.
Lately I’ve been around a knuckle cracker. Wait, let me re-phrase. I am around a knuckle cracker who knows how much it bothers me and still persists on cracking his knuckles. I don’t think this is a good sign. I think if this were a novel, his continuation would no doubt be the initial foreshadowing of some doomed future. I don’t know – maybe it’s just my mood. We’ll see, I guess. I’ll check back with you in 50 pages or so.
The only thing good about the knuckle cracker is that I’ve had Hank Ballard & The Midnighters’ “Finger Popping Time” in my head because of him. Actually, that’s not the only good thing about the knuckle cracker. The knuckle cracker has a lot of good things about him when he’s not cracking. But as a knuckle cracker, well, Hank Ballard is definitely the only good thing about him.
margauxville 
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