Eureka at the Edge of Consciousness
Do you ever have a revelation right as you’re falling asleep? Where something just kind of hits you and then a second later you’re out? For instance, the other night I was drifting off when it struck me that I really don’t want to be killed by a crocodile. The whole ripping and tearing and drowning, I’m just not interested.
These little eureka moments on the threshold of sleep, somnolent epiphanies perhaps, usually disappear, replaced the next morning by a feeling of loss, like something was in your grasp and then faded away. But not always. Just like my Archimedes moment with the crocodiles the other evening, this morning I woke up with a similar sensation. Let me explain.
Last night I went to bed a little confused after reading Jeff’s post. I mean, he knows I like girls and I wondered why he would make insinuations about my sexuality. It just didn’t make sense to me. I know it had nothing to do with what I posted the other day because it’s obvious that I’m just trying to help him with a very real problem. But as I sank into sleep with these thoughts orbiting around my head, awareness suddenly exploded like a supernova.
Let me take you back a little. Those of you who read this blog regularly or know Jeff well undoubtedly also know that he is infatuated with Asia. The art, the languages, the religions, the peoples. There is no aspect he does not love.
But, if you follow pop culture, you realize that within this arena there are barely understood subcultures, fringes on which things happen that are often hard to fathom. And if you watch 30 Rock or read the New York Times you have become acquainted with possibly the most incomprehensible subculture.
Having watched this episode of 30 Rock just the other day, it’s no surprise that both the show and the article were on my mind as I went to bed. And when that mixed together in my head with a comment that a reader made the other day about substituting a blow-up doll in place of a girlfriend for Jeff, well, I had my eureka moment.
Yes, that’s right. I could barely believe it myself but all signs point to Jeff being in a long-term relationship with some sort of body pillow. The lack of a girlfriend. The callously strewn about accusations. The down feathers that always seem to be stuck in his hair. All are signs pointing toward the inescapable truth.
Now, I am unable to comment on the veracity of reports that this body pillow sports an Albert Pujols jersey. And I almost certainly do not believe the recent rumor that this pillow may actually be Jeff’s common-law wife. That being said, it would explain a lot.
Really, though, I’m here to be a friend and that’s why I just want to say, “Jeff. It’s all right. You can come clean. You’re among friends and we support you.” So, how about it Mr. Lung? Wouldn’t you feel better being able to live your life out here in the open with the rest of us?