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The Sunglasses Thing

October 5, 2006

“I’m not comfortable with sunglasses,” he said.
“Really?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“You think they make people look like pricks? Assholes?”
“No, no. I mean, yeah, sure, but that’s not what I meant. I’m not comfortable wearing them. Never have been.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s the tinting? Everything being all tea-colored?”
“Tea-colored?”
“Yeah, or maybe it’s just the separation it gives you from the people around you. Like you’re not really engaging the world. Like you’re wearing blinders.”
“Okay.”
“In movies they can look cool, but on real people I don’t think so. They make you look like you’re passing through.”
“Guys who wear sunglasses at the poker table piss me off. I don’t like that.”
“No, you know what it is? I don’t like sweating in sunglasses.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t like it when you catch the reflection of your own eye in the lens, right there by your real eye, and your sweaty, bumpy cheek is there and your lashes are blinking and ugh. I don’t like having my own eye, this giant eyeball, in this black mirror right in front of me. Can’t get away from it and it looks all dead and weird and no matter how hard I try to look through it like they’re glasses, they just become this suffocating mirror and a giant, wandering, blinking eyeball right in my face.”
“All right.”
“Giant horse-mirror blinders staring at me with my own eyeball bugs the shit out of me. That’s what it is.”
“Okay.”

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One comment

  1. Beautiful.



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