The Circle: Very Catfishy

January 5, 2020January 13, 2020 ~ Piece, of the Sky

I’m always right, 25% of the time.
– Joey

It’s a little strange to catfish as your significant other, especially if you’re going to go into the game as a single person. Why over-complicate an already complicated game? It’s already hard to be yourself, in real life, much less on The Genius or Survivor, where you have to be calculating new strategies, almost constantly. “Is Chris cute?” immediately alerts the females, to the bad gaydar, of a possibly fake girl catfish. Why would the catfish admit to being the catfish?

In regard to Alana, a dork, for models, is not a dork, for normal people. Unfortunately, she just seemed like someone trying to be fake and fit in, with the rest of the masses. A majority of beautiful people in casting, immediately makes the other people suspect that several catfish, and maybe a bot, or two, might be in their midst. However, Alana wasn’t a catfish; she was actually hot. Filters are fine, just probably not on your profile pic. Bad first impression.

But humans are pattern-finding animals. What’s a threat? What’s a resource? In our daily lives, we must all quickly decide, all quickly form an opinion. It’s like when the great chef didn’t know how to poach an egg; a red flag immediately went up, for the woman he was hitting on.

Why would Alana immediately call the female chat “Skinny Queens”? Did Alana want to be targeted for being pretty? “It’s good that we’re all pretty,” Alana says, without even thinking about it. There’s nothing wrong with being pretty; Alana is just very tone deaf. Skinny legend, skinny icon. Has Alana opened insta lately? Rookie moves. Alana was a case where being so perfect must mean she was a catfish – and the group did not mean this as a compliment.

Oblique

April 14, 2018April 17, 2018 ~ Piece, of the Sky

Bjork Possibly Maybe.JPG2.JPG3

Keo sat in Zibetto, stirring a cup of green tea. The rain trickled down the windows, in the late evening. Cars and trucks rattled the glass in Midtown. The long summer afternoon had ended and given way to smooth, oily darkness, a violet sky.

Alli came through the door and bought a cappuccino. She sat down across from Keo, at the table.

“So, world traveler,” Alli said, “you’re finally back.”

“Touched down in JFK this morning,” Keo replied.

“Wow,” Alli said. She sipped the coffee and looked out the window, at the storm, “A lot has changed since high school.”

“I can imagine,” Keo said, raising her eyebrows, “I’ve been all over the world and yet I still come back here.”

“What made you come back?” Alli wondered.

“To help an old friend,” Keo said, looking into her tea, “An old girlfriend, actually. She’s folding up an old furniture business. I thought I would buy it off her hands.”

“That sounds really neat,” Alli said. A pair of croissants arrived on a blue dish.

“What about you?” Keo asked, “Are you still with Nealy?”

“No,” Alli smiled, “That was ages ago.”

“Really?” Keo exclaimed, eyes widening, “You two seemed very much in love.”

“The one thing I can say, is that I’m not in love with her anymore,” Alli said, “It’s been a couple of years. Nealy is gone.”

Keo sighed and looked down, “That’s too bad.”

“She went to Shanghai, and we never really connected after that,” Alli explained.

“Where is she now?”

“In San Francisco. Probably.” Alli said.

The taxis whizzed by, on damp streets, rolling to obscure destinations in the deepening night.

tried