I hate it when I discover things about myself that I don’t want to acknowledge. I am hyper-sensitive. There!! I’ve said it! You have a problem with that? Well, then don’t read my blog, you insensitive dolt! I have this friend. He has been a devoted friend to me for, well, over thirty years!! Crap, that’s a long time! It’s too damn long! But he knows me pretty well, and almost any time he opens his mouth (or sends an email, same difference), and it is about me, I am on the defensive, with my dukes up (is that the right word? you know, ‘get your dukes up?’. You young’uns probably don’t remember that expression.) He means well (actually sometimes I don’t know what the fuck he means, but I think the worst.) but inevitably I take it wrong. I don’t always acknowledge it, because I know it’s fucked up. I really wish I could just give it up, and give the guy a break. I mean he is the closest friend I got, except my cat, Buddy, and he can’t talk. (if he could, we might not be friends). It makes me think about what I wrote about my brother Keith being so sensitive to imagined slights. I’m the same way, I’m not a mine field, well at least I hope I’m not a like a mine field. If so, I think I blew my friend’s head off a few times.
Whoa!!! wait a minute! Slow down! We readers don’t even know what you are talking about. What, for Pete’s sake, did this friend do, to earn this rambling post?
Fair enough!! He merely mentioned that he had checked out my blog (What!! without my permission!! Only strangers can check out my blog!) and read My Dream of Diane and speculated on the moral of the tale. He thought I was saying how an attractive girl could still be attracted to a total fucking loser. (Actually, he didn’t write ‘total fucking loser’, as a matter of fact, I just checked, he wrote: “the moral of the story that you can attract a woman you desire no matter what your thoughts about yourself are?” ) So, you can see that I should not be a court reporter. I got it all wrong. Not only did I detect an imaginary slight, but I distorted the whole thing. This ties in to the post I wrote called House of Mirrors, where I discuss the distortion involved in internet communication. Ok, even though I don’t think I mentioned anything in that post about my feelings about myself, still. It’s crazy. It is a classic tempest in a teapot situation. (for you younger readers, do I really need to explain what a tempest and teapot are? You do get…ok I’ll leave you alone, then)
And this crap goes on all the time!! My friend writes something, I write something insane back, and then have to email him that I am, in fact, insane, which he already knows.
If my feelings were fine china? My friend would be the bull charging through the china shop. He can’t help it. He’s a bull. (and as you can tell, I like bull.)