The Zen of Zombie

by Scott Kenemore

  If you really want to find true love, you have to be open to the possibility that it could involve some waiting. But while you wait, wait like the zombie outside the fortified farmhouse.

  The waiting zombie usually stays visible.

  If the farmer screws up his courage and peeks through a crack in the door he’s nailed shut, the zombie will be right outside waiting. If the object of your affection is dating someone else, let them know that, if they ever get bored with Mr. Whatsisname, you’ll be right there, waiting to offer love, intimacy, and long, sloppy fellatio sessions.

  When you can’t be directly visible to the object of your affection, it’s important to find other ways to let your presence be known. The zombie might not be right outside the farmhouse’s front door anymore, but the creaking footsteps on the roof let the farmer know he’s still the center of the zombie’s world. You might not be able to stay physically near that gorgeous girl from college who said you’d never make anything of yourself, but your note to the alumni magazine about your JD from Harvard will let her know you’re still out to prove her wrong.

  It’s important to note that only you can decide whether waiting is the right thing to do. Even zombies have to make tricky calls in this connection. Yes, a zombie will wait all week for an isolated farmer to risk venturing outside, but if there’s another, un-fortified farmhouse just over the next hill, a zombie is no less of a zombie for going in search of other prey.

  Go where the action is

  The final lesson zombies embody for those desperately seeking someone, is to seek out a target-rich environment. It might sound a little inelegant for a chapter on finding true romance, but trust me, it is advice you need to take.

  Have you ever noticed that when zombie outbreaks occur, they invariably start in cities? You’ve seen it before. One city falls, then another, as zombies radiate out from them. Humans who survive the zombies longest are the ones living in the flyover.

  What attracts zombies to urban centers? The number of people-per-square-mile, of course. Cities are where zombies have the best chance of finding what they’re looking for, and they instinctually know it. That’s not to say that there might not be some very tasty brains in rural Montana or the Mojave Desert. Probably there are. But a zombie knows its best chance of finding brains to eat will be where people are packed as tight as they can be (and paying through the nose for it, no less).

  Now before you go into a diatribe about how not everyone can live in a big city and how there are many positive aspects to a rural existence, hear this loud and clear: I am not suggesting that you must live in a city to find love. At least, not necessarily ...

  What I am suggesting is that you do need to look for the kind of person you want to meet in the kind of place where that person lives. This doesn’t automatically mean you need to pick up stakes, but you should consider the benefits of focusing your efforts on a target-rich-environment.

  If you’re idea of an ideal mate is someone who works in publishing, television, or art auctioneering, someone who likes to dress in black, and someone who enjoys live theater, then yes, you may be heading off for the Big Apple. But there are plenty of other qualities worth seeking. Your list may be very general (liberal or conservative, introverted or extroverted, outgoing or a homebody), or painstakingly specific (I want to meet an Orthodox Jewish dentist who enjoys Indian food and reads Saul Bellow). Whatever the case, you need to begin by asking yourself, honestly, where you are likely to find these types. Otherwise, you’re just wasting your time. Frequently, just the smallest adjustment can yield results to make any zombie proud.

  If you’ve always wanted to date a cop, but you spend your evenings in a bar where criminals congregate, your chances of meeting a handsome young police officer are pretty limited (at least, an off-duty one). If, on the other hand, you try the cop bar by the police station, your chances of success increase greatly.

  If you want to meet a reader, go to the bookstore. (If you want to meet a broke-ass reader, try the library).

  Someone athletic, hit the gym.

  Many of us might like to imagine that someone who’s a perfect match for us will just fall into our laps one day, or ride up on a white horse. But when you get tired of waiting, make like a zombie and go to where the targets are. You’ll be glad you did.

  To Recap:

  Zombies know the catch is well worth the chase.

  Zombies are up front about who they are, and what they need.

  Zombies are dogged in their pursuit.

  Zombies stick to a target-rich-environment.

  To prepare for your next romantic encounter, whenever it happens, you need to prep yourself for the world of dating as a zombie.

  8

  Perfection Is a Skinned Knee

  To be like a zombie, you must strive for perfection only in the most vital areas of (after)life. Even then, you must do so cautiously.

  More than one self-help tome before this has insinuated that perfection is not possible, and that it’s a dangerous standard for which to strive. These books are on the right track, more or less, but fail to tell the entire story when it comes to zombies. For a zombie, perfection is a little different from what it might be for you or me.

  Perfection for a zombie?

  Eating a human brain. Any brain.

  Marvel, for a moment dear reader, at the zombie’s ability to find perfection in such a simple and accessible thing. Brains are everywhere. People with brains are readily accessible to zombies. The dream can be realized again and again.

  When humans speak of perfection, it is more frequently done in reference to the execution of a project (usually, a project that can be quantified in some way).

  “I got a perfect 1600 on my SAT.”

  “He pitched a perfect game last season.”

  “I got a perfect score on Centipede.”

  Things that are not quantifiable or score-able are likewise spoken of as being less-than-perfect.

  “No marriage can be perfect, but I never expected to fight this much.”

  “Some people dream of a perfect life, but not me.”

  “A graduate of Eton is expected to be perfect in his comportment, and not go to Halloween parties dressed as a Nazi.”

  Zombie Tip:

  I have taken more from brains ...

  than brains have taken from me.

  Seriously, brains are awesome. Have we made that clear yet?

  This tends to imply a kind of double-standard when it comes to perfection. Humans create situations for themselves where perfection is measurable and quantifiable, when really, who’s to say what’s perfect?

  Here we begin to see the paradox of perfection that zombies have long ago figured out:

  By focusing on perfection, humans make their lives imperfect.

  By never worrying about doing things perfectly, zombies experience perfect happiness.

  As remarked, many self-help authors have opined that an obsession with perfection does not lead to happiness. Zombies have discovered that the opposite is also true. By never worrying about whether or not you’ve gotten something perfect, you tend to experience a rollicking happiness that is, well, pretty darn perfect.

  For instance, when a zombie’s making his way through a day care center during a power outage, he doesn’t worry about whether or not he’s going to eat the brain of every child inside. When a zombie is locked in a to-the-death (or “death”) combat with a human, he doesn’t stop to worry about things going perfectly. If he’s got to smash his victim’s head on a rock, precious and delicious brains could be lost. If he decapitates the human in a wet or muddy battlefield, the brains could get all gooey and gross. (And who wants to eat a muddy brain? Totally gross, am I right?) Numerous things can “go wrong” in the course of combat. Does this stop the zombie? Not for a second. Win or lose, partial-muddy-brain or delicious-entire-brain, the zombie is just going for it like he always does. Nine times out of ten, the zombie finds that things go great when he just goes for i
t like that.

  Your exercise for the rest of this week will involve training yourself to “just stumble in wildly” like a zombie, and not worry about perfection. In your journal, make note of each occasion when you feel yourself making an appeal towards perfection, note the way in which you instead adopt a zombie’s more freestyle perfection approach, and note the end result of the situation. Dollars-to-delicious-yummy-brains, I’ll bet you that most of the time, taking on a zombie’s less obsessive stagger ends with an imminently more perfect result.

  Here are some examples:

  Example One

  Situation demanding perfection: Have to do a sales presentation at the distributors’ convention in Skokie. If we don’t get picked up by at least as many outlets as last year, this mom and pop business of ours it pretty much shot. My initial impression is that my pitch with these guys has got to be perfect, and I should do a lot of drafts, and stay up all night practicing. Maybe even hire an outside speechwriter.

  Revised zombie approach: Okay, so I thought about my zombie training up to this point in the book, and I thought, a zombie would just go for it, right? A zombie would just do what it wanted to do. Charge right in. Just be itself. So I didn’t come up with a fancy pitch or hire a speechwriter. (I did stay up all night, but at a bar.) Then, at the convention, I just walked right up to the distributors, even if they were already talking to somebody else, and I was like: “I’ve clearly got the best products and selection, and at prices you can’t beat. You’d be brainless not to stock our products.”

  End result: Maybe the zombie-training inspired me to use the word “brainless,” but whatever the case, it was just what these guys needed to hear. We filled all the orders we needed, and then some. This is one mom and pop sex toy and pornography manufacturer that’s going to be okay!

  Example Two

  Situation demanding perfection: Coach gives me a lecture after last game about how left guard is one of the most important positions on the offensive line, and says that if I keep giving up so many sacks, I stand to lose my scholarship. (Can he do that?) Anyhow, I felt right away like I’d better play perfect for the rest of the season. For a moment, I saw myself hitting the weight room more, not skipping Sunday practices, and maybe using protein shakes to bulk up like I’ve seen some of the other guys do.

  Revised zombie approach: Anyhow, so right as the coach sat back down and said “Is that clear, son? Now get out of my office!” I started thinking that I should try to be perfect like a zombie would, and not like a human. I was like, a zombie wouldn’t care if it started, or if it got playing time. It would only go after what it wanted. In this situation, I want my scholarship just like a zombie wants brains. I don’t need a perfect or elegant way of getting it, so I said: “Coach, I’d like to try harder for you and all that bullshit, but I’m afraid that if I do, I’ll go to the dean of students and tell him about all those times I let you suck my cock. Like here, just now, in this office with your door closed like it is. Now look, you can bench me if you don’t like Terry getting sacked nine times a game. That’s fine. But if my scholarship goes, then I gotta be real with the top brass about all those times you begged me to run a triple-reverse slant route into your ass.”

  End result: Scholarship secure.

  Whatever the situation, send perfection packing and embark instead with the unconcerned spirit of a zombie. When you do, you’ll find yourself as close to “perfection” as one is likely to come, and you find had a fun time getting there!

  9

  No Credit Letting Go of Your Ego and Adopting a Zombie’s Spirit of Cooperation

  Too many humans today are motivated to act only when and if their actions will result in some sort of credit. They want their actions to be recorded. How often have you heard:

  “Sure I’m interested in helping, but I want my name attached to the project.”

  -or-

  “Will the press be there? Because otherwise it’s not even worth showing up.”

  -or-

  “I’ll only be an extra in this film if I can appear in the credits as ‘Zombie #281.’”

  The attitude evinced in these examples is completely antithetical to that of the zombie, who is completely unconcerned with being credited for his actions (and in many cases would much prefer to be left out of any sort of record entirely).

  The purpose of week 9 is to inspire you to slough off this all-too-human preoccupation with credit and embrace a more zombie-like way of being.

  Previous sections of this book have already commented extensively upon the zombie’s comportment. Specifically, it has been stressed that zombies don’t do what they do out of any need for external attention. In this section, we note that neither are zombies concerned with being credited for their work. If Zombie A breaks down a door and eats someone’s brain, but then history should mistakenly credit Zombie B with this act, nobody involved is very concerned. Not Zombie A. Not Zombie B. Nobody.

  Zombies are creatures free from the constraints of Ego (and Id and Superego, while we’re at it). They do what they do only because they want to do it, and not for any exterior acknowledgment or hope for a place in history.

  Zombie Tip:

  Meditate about it!

  The ancient practice of clearing one’s mind by sitting quietly focusing on one’s breathing was tailor-made for zombies. Zombies already sit quietly most of the time, and focus on brains only because they do not breathe. This lived-state of near constant meditation indicates a zombie’s close proximity to nirvana.

  In fact, when something mysterious is conspicuously uncredited, there is all the more reason to believe that zombies were involved.

  Let us drive home the point. While some historical events have seemed mysterious and confusing to present day historians, the influence of uncredited zombies is readily detectable in the following:

  Construction of Stonehenge in Ancient England

  While no one knows exactly who the Druids were (or what they were doin’), ancient British zombies were prescient enough to understand that building a confusing stone obelisk would be enough to bring edible humans to an otherwise empty stretch of land. (This, being before cities existed in northern England, was actually less effort than trekking down to London.) To this day, the odd tourist is lost to the zombies who still frequent the spot.

  Construction of the Pyramids in Ancient Egypt

  Though some historians still profess to be “baffled” at how ancient man could have had the sufficient technology, motivation, and endurance to create these monuments to the dead (clue), more open-minded anthropologists have long understood that the implementation of zombie-labor could be an important missing ingredient. (This was, of course, prior to the great Zombie-Mummy rift, when it became apparent to all that mummies were just unambitious rich kids who wanted to play in their enormous houses but never wanted to come outside and try actually working for a living.)

  Destruction of the Knights Templar

  Saracen invaders and Papal conspiracies tend to dominate modern theories as to the extinction of this ancient order, but few know that the “Knights of Malta” actually retreated to their island as a defense against zombies more than anything else. (This defense was not effective.)

  Disappearance of Amelia Earhart

  Stowaway zombie.

  Loss of Ocean Liner “Titanic”

  Stowaway zombies (navigator eaten).

  In this connection, it is important to note that there are no individually famous zombies. At least no openly famous zombies. Think about that for a second ...

  Zombies, as a species, are famous for lots and lots of things, and have obviously accomplished quite a bit. But you never see a single zombie singled-out for fame.

  When a zombie is successful and receives attention, he doesn’t let the media single him out as anything more than “a zombie.” Not “Bill Taylor the former tax attorney turned Zombie,” not “Bill the Zombie,” and not even “that one zombie in the Brooks Brothers suit from 1972 with
half its jaw missing.”

  The only credit a zombie will accept is when he is credited simply as “a zombie.”