DESPERATION

A man wants to meet a woman.

"Go to an art museum.  Women love those places.  Walk up to one and ask her what she sees in a particular painting.  Let her talk.  Then ask her out."

Some good advice, or so it seemed.

"What does that painting make you think about?  How are you connecting with that work of art," he asked.

" Well, if you mean, 'What do I see'? I see darkness and depravity.  Bleakness.  Hopelessness.  Humankind in an abyss it can't get out of."

"Wow.   You see all that.  Do you want to go out with me Saturday night?"

"I'm going to commit suicide on Saturday,"  she answered.

"Well, what about Friday night?"

I wish I had created this dialogue rather than re-telling a Woody Allen movie scene, but that's just the way desperation works.  It alters our natural thought processes.  It makes us do insane things.

And with that bit of insight, I conclude this entry.  Not because I'm desperate, but because I can't improve on that Allen scene.  So maybe I am.