Identify yourself

“When I sketched out the rough idea of it to a friend, he listened carefully and then shook his head. ‘I donโ€™t think youโ€™ve got anything new to say about AIDS, Steve.’ He paused and added, ‘Especially as a straight man.’

No. And no. And especially: no.

I hate the assumption that you canโ€™t write about something because you havenโ€™t experienced it, and not just because it assumes a limit on the human imagination, which is basically limitless. It also suggests that some leaps of identification are impossible. I refuse to accept that, because it leads to the conclusion that real change is beyond us, and so is empathy. The idea is false on the evidence.”

-Stephen King

(That sums up so very well why I despise “only write or make movies about people exactly like you, or you’re irreddeemably evil” line of thought. Funny, it’s like he gets paid to write well or something.)

Sage

I’m glad other people get something out of these activities. Truly, I am. But these are things I am just built too differently to understand why anyone likes them or wants them:

  • massage
  • meditation
  • psychotherapy

In the end, I just don’t want people monkeying with me or my mind. I don’t think anyone has much to tell me — including myself. And I’m not interested in telling anyone anything at all, especially for money.

Those above are areas where I am so disconnected from the rest of humanity that I just have no idea what anyone is possibly getting out of those pursuits. I don’t think they are fraudulent (well, not so sure about psychotherapy) or worthless, but it’s a mystery like “What exactly is an electron?” or “Why was that show that used to come on before Lost with the non-funny Belushi brother so very bad?”

Some things one will never understand. Those are my areas of puzzlement, it appears.

In the deeps of N. Florida

Once upon a time, I had a girlfriend who was a little…different.

In those days of yore, I asked her, “Hey, girlfriend, why’s that tower out here in the middle of nowhere? What’s it for?”

It was near her house, you see. I thought she might know since it towered, as towers do, over the landscape.

Her answer was less than illuminating. She said in all seriousness, “They put that tower up so they could put that light on top so planes wouldn’t hit it.”

I think my mind got lost in paradox land that day and never quite recuperated. Thanks, girlfriend of yore, for frying my brain so thoroughly.