Sunday, January 6, 2013

I've been seduced by a demon and it's mangling my judgment

The living statues gather at the end of La Rambla, and most of them are perfect.


Years ago, I read a blog written by a professional statue, and he made staying still sound like a magical adventure. He could people-watch all day, and when it got quiet sometimes tourists would tell him their secrets, knowing that he'd always listen and never respond. One time he fooled a city official into believing he was a real statue, and she wondered aloud to her colleague when they'd gotten that art piece installed.

 I wanted to do it. I wanted to be a statue.

 These things take patience though, so I figured I'd start small. I sat in front of a mirror so I could see if I twitched, and I set a timer for five minutes.

As soon as I clicked the on button and knew I couldn't move anymore, invisible weevils started crawling all over my body.
“Just ignore it,” I told myself, “they're not real.”
Oh, but they itched for real.
“It's all in your head. C'mon. You know that in your head too. Your head can be stronger than your head.”
And then the weevils started crawling up my nose. And man I know hair is dead but I could swear that each and every one of my nose hairs had a fully functioning nervous system devoted entirely to itchy weevil detection.

I spent the next fifteen minutes frantically clawing at my face.

So you can see why I maintain the deepest respect for skilled statue performers. I know about the invisible weevils going up their noses.

And the majority of those guys at La Rambla – they had skill.


A few of them kept moving around though. It's like they wanted to let their costumes do all the work for them instead of actually putting any effort into their jobs. And some of their costumes didn't even look that statue-like! I mean really, how lazy can you OH MY GOD.


 That guy.
He was moving. He didn't look much like a statue. His job clearly didn't require the skill and dedication of the other... OH WHATEVER. I'M GONNA MARRY ME THAT DEMON AND THE FIRST STEP IS GIVING HIM ALL MY EUROS.


Yes demon man. Yes I love you.

 This is what our wedding photos will look like.


Friday, January 4, 2013

I blame jet lag

Oh wow. So, like, I thought I was the maximum amount of useless back home, but no. No it was all a lie. Turns out that in America I'm only MOSTLY useless. In Spain I have discovered and reached a whole new level of ineffectual.

And it's not just 'cause I'm American – all the other Americans here can do stuff. Zee has already earned her keep translating for the group, and Resplendent Bob made the Internet work. So far I'm only good for falling asleep on unlikely surfaces.

It's gotten to the point where I can't even properly fantasize about being useful.
Yesterday I imagined that Zee's dad opened the empty refrigerator and then collapsed.
“Oh no!” yelled Zee's mom, “Quick, we need more whimsy up in this bitch!”
And then I filled the refrigerator with helium balloons and the next time Zee's dad opened the door all the balloons popped out and bounced around the room and we had a party.

But that could never happen in real life because I'd need help finding a place that sold helium balloons and then converting my dollars into euros and then sneaking back into the building without my own key. So then I decided all my fantasies were stupid and I spent the rest of the day pretending to be Spider-Man instead. Barcelona is a great place to have wall-crawling powers. You can get your footprints on the most beautiful buildings here.