Mystery Ass Warmth
by El Cid on Jul.11, 2001, under Articles, El Cid
El Cid here, reporting on an occurrence which I feel is a concern of paramount importance: mystery ass warmth. You know the feeling; you spy a chair that is practically begging to cradle your tired body in it’s cushion of reassurance and security. No one is around–it’s just you and the chair locked in a visual embrace of love and anticipation. As you slowly descend, waiting for the welcoming support of the perfectly temperate upholstery, you are finally met with a bitter welcome of foreign heat thoroughly saturating your supposed haven of soft repose. There is no repose for you now, however, your trust has been betrayed, and if you’re anything like me, your only recourse is to hold your abdomen and weep softly while rocking back and forth. Your utopia is shattered, as if your virginity was just forcefully snatched by someone whom you mistakenly thought cared for you. The pain of betrayal subsides, in time, and your anguish turns to furious accusations. Who was the motherfucker who violated your furniture oasis? The room is empty and you’re left with no other option but to seethe in the tainted seat–alone and vulnerable. It’s Thursday and it’s a good thing it’s an odd day because I’m feeling far too emotionally parched to even attempt to conquer Valencia.
