Yes, sorry, I’m at this again. I just had another love moment with my wallpaper, and given the fact that the internet appears to be devoid of love for the Viper, I feel the need to post yet another blurb about this beautiful jet.
Breathtaking. A thing of pure beauty. The benchmark of a beautiful design. Every other fighter plane can only be compared as a fraction of the F-16’s beauty, but none can meet or exceed it. And not just fighter planes, either. It’s the only object on the planet that is as beautiful as it is. Every iota of its design is an inspiration to me: being a fighter plane, I now love fighter planes; being created in the 80s, I love 80s stuff; being used by the Air Force, I love the Air Force, etc. It’s like my entire life has gained composure and form using this simple “machine” as a role model.
And yet, having been conditioned to never be able to touch the real thing, I still love it. I see it only in photos and the occasional video, and every now and then I get to see a few flying over my house from quite a distance. I can drive by the airport every now and then, and see them parked, all lined up by the hangar. Yet I can never actually get close enough to touch one.
Given the opportunity, I’d dedicate a month of my life to absolutely, meticulously going over every detail of this beautiful plane with a toothbrush and toothpick to make it brand new, and do that to every single one of an entire fighter squadron. Just for that opportunity to actually appreciate that beautiful thing which I’ve obsessed over each and every single day for the past 7 years. Is it so hard to believe, that I honestly have thought about it that much? Given how much I love the thing, and how much of my life and personality is dedicated to that simple aircraft, I don’t find it hard to believe. I think any sane-minded individual would, though.
My walls, my computers, my car, my nickname, and pretty much everything else I own, each has at least a little something relating to my obsession with the Falcon. Of course I’m obsessed with the thing. It doesn’t entirely dominate every waking thought, in fact it only brings itself up when I sit there and look at it. But it’s very much like I’m in love with it the same way people are in love with another person. I never have felt “love” for any other person, in even remotely the same way as I feel for the F-16. Where people post photos of their loved ones, I post photos of my loved one. The same way other people talk to their loved ones, I look up little pieces of info about the plane. And yet, while other people are busy having their intimate moments with their loved ones, all I can do is sit there and stare longingly at beautifully captured photos of the Falcon. Wishing I were there and wishing I could touch it, feel it, lay on it, admire it, and appreciate it.
I had to pick the most fucked-up thing to love.