The iris (the coloured part of your eyes) is a very interesting muscle. Yes, that’s what it isa muscle. The heart is a muscle too, by the way. If one’s eyes (pupils, rather) are the windows to their soul, then the iris serves as a window frame. And it comes in a limited, but still spectacular, rainbow of various hues. Sure, most are brown and that sort of makes it uninteresting, but the brown of one’s eye is like the green of a leaf from a tree. In both cases, there’s actually another, underlying colour. In the end, though, colour doesn’t really matter. What does really matter is whether or not your irises are letting in just the right amount of light. If it shrinks the pupil too much, darkness falls. If they contract so as to make more of your eyes almost completely black, you’re not likely to see well unless you have to absorb every particle of light you can recieve in order to see anything at all. So, what does this all mean? I don’t know. I meant to write something more poetic. It’s a rich metaphor, but I guess introducing the concept as a muscle sort of took some of the romance out of it. Again, I don’t know.

All along I’ve been revering the Greek goddess, Eris, but I may be deprived of eating Skittles. I should taste the rainbow. Ire is an ugly thing to feel about anything. I resisted that kind of thing before. But now I’m uncertain. I wrestled with all the relevant issues and I just can’t come to a one-man concensus. What do you do when you find someone to be irrisistable, but they just see you as irresponsible or otherwise undesirable? And what does this all have to do with eye muscles or whatever? What, indeed. I rest my case.

Okay, so I made no sense. Sue me.

This entry was posted on Saturday, July 8th, 2000 at 6:31 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.