I’m back. But I’m not all the way back; I’m somewhere between back like Mel Gibson back and back like Kanye West back. So I’m almost there. But I’m still not there. At all.
Recently, I’ve come to realize that nothing is sacred. I literally don’t think I can tell anyone ANYTHING without it traveling through the byzantine conduits of all of my friends’ brains. I mean, don’t get me wrong, these are my people. And I’m guilty of the same thing. But it’s more than just gossip when I step back (a good back) and really take a gander.
How do you get to know people? You open up to them. You act, you speak, and they construct an opinion of you in their heads. And so is born an idea, a conception of you that lives and exists in their upper story. But when it gets interesting, I think, is when you link your swings together so that you’re married: you're idea of who this person is mingles orison with palpable presence and the acquisition, is that you know them. Really well. So well, that you've xeroxed copies of each segment of them, dissected them, chewed them up and out until that conception is a beaten, unholy corpse of an idea. And that corpse buried deep in your upper story matches how you literally see them.
I’ve also realized that I’m a magnet for guys I’m not interested in. And this magnet, is pretty fucking strong. GIIIIIIIIT SUMMMMMMMMMM.
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