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08 October 2002 @ 04:09 am
>Confrontation !Indignation = ?Change  
Cooking is done. I have food for several days. Not like you care.

I submitted an old poem, revised, for today's creative writing assignment. I'm not posting it again - nobody said anything the first time around, why should they now?

I had a good talk with masui - about, well, stuff. Identity, body image, and the nature of love. And what it means to be "one of the guys." Also, if anybody knows what somebody who hates men is (like misogynist, but not misandronist), it would help a great deal.

I think we feel the same way about journals - we both suck at finding time for people, and this is usually our only way to communicate with other people most of the time. But, again, it's not like you care.

There's a stanza from Carl Dennis' poem, "Progressive Health," where he says that it is easier to lose a bachelor from a group of friends, because there is no significant other to mourn their loss. When I get a chance, I'll post some of it, because that's how I feel every day.

That's why I'm on my kick about being pissed at women, because I'm scared of being left alone, with nobody to remember me or mourn my passing. Why do I always think of these things right before I go to sleep? It doesn't matter - I know what most of you will say, those of you who will say anything at all. Because you say almost the same thing, every time. The rest of you will hang back, and pretend like I'm just being who I am, this is all just an act, or a phase, and your self-assurance will win you through the day. Some of you will gush inwards about how little you can do, and do nothing, because you believe that is something. Some of you will struggle to find the right words, and not find them, and refuse to settle for the just-as-good words. Some of you will see me as being pissed-off, and angry, and ignore this.

And I don't care. I don't care when people do this to me - these are just words, words, words. But how many times do you do this in a day? In how many ways? See, you're already thinking about what I'm thinking, and formulating a response. Stop it - this isn't me - this is your computer screen, doing what it's told. I don't try to start a conversation every day with people, and find silence for no good reason. You all have your reasons, and I want you to think about them right now. Wait all you want for your right moment, it may never come. Wait for your words, and when they materialize, you may not know where to send them. Look around this room - and think about how many of these people you see face-to-face, every day. Do you tell each other that you care? Or do you just accept, imitate, and make those motions that you make every day? If you see each other at all?

This isn't some separate world - it's a very real part of the very real world where you live, eat, and slouch towards death every day. This is not some fairy-tale land where we let our thoughts fly fast and loose for no good reason. Or maybe it is, and you're fine with that. Maybe you've shut out all the preaching already, and this word, semaphore, isn't even breaking through. We all have inertia to overcome. If that makes any sense at all. I am so tired - so very, very tired. Good night.
Current Music: soundgarden - blow up the outside world
la femme stygiangunn on October 8th, 2002 06:49 am (UTC)
What do you want us to say, Doc? What do you want us to do?
la femme stygiangunn on October 8th, 2002 07:11 am (UTC)
You know what? Let's Talk. If you can, show up for Tea tonight.
masui on October 8th, 2002 10:58 am (UTC)
(I will preface this by saying that my intention is not to cause offense or conflict.)

I don't think that's the point. I think rather than asking him to come to a place full of people that are going to be there anyways, what would be better would be making some private time where the two people are intentionally just seeing eachother and only eachother because they both want to make the time and effort to connect.

But I could be wrong.

masui on October 8th, 2002 10:59 am (UTC)
I am just a schmuck after all.
la femme stygian: lavinia screamgunn on October 8th, 2002 11:36 am (UTC)
The reason I suggested tea was because I knew I was going to be there, since I don't have a car, and I'll be gaming with y'all before then. I would have suggested some place to sit and talk if I had any private place around there, but you know what? I live out in Northeast minneapolis. I could take him to a tea shop or a bar or the student union or the library or some other equally public place, but I've got the feeling that wouldn't work either since we're looking for a private place. I thought that by saying, "Let's Talk", I might make do with what I could, and by saying the words beforehand, make it scheduled, make it one-on-one. But every time I try to do that, I get someone who'll point out how I ignored them the entire time.

Maybe I just need to cut off some of my friends, so that I can spend quality time with the few who make the mark. Unfortunately, with my thinking everyone is so damn cool, I'm going to have a hard time doing that, and I'm going to have 40 or 50 people feeling neglected, rather than the two who accuse me directly a week and the 5 or 6 who just profess general neglect.

I don't complain or question when you take me off your friends list, when you and Nemo stopped returning my calls long before you moved out, when I never see my roommates, when people I'd like to see are busy- I'm pretty easy going about that. I know how being busy and knowing a lot of people goes. Hell, even when I have no clue why a call wasn't returned or why someone didn't say "hi" when I said "hi", or had to cut out on a conversation to talk to someone else, I don't feel neglected. I just don't know how I'm supposed to fix the way I live for people. I try so damn hard, Masui. I really do, but it's just not good enough.
masui on October 8th, 2002 01:15 pm (UTC)
this is not about you.
this is about doc.
this is not about what you are doing but about what i percieve doc as needing.
he is not going to feel special about being asked to come along to a convienant venue because you are already there. (in my opinion). maybe that would work for some people, but i don't think that's going to help right now. also, I believe tea is a hard place for him to be.

*that's* why I prefaced my comment. I'm not ripping you apart or making a judgement call.
this is not about you.
this is about doc.

i was just trying to help you to better help doc.
that is all.


now, it sounds like you have some other issues that you would like to address, but I suggest you move it to my journal. I will create a space for it.


doc, i apologize for all of the assumptions. I hope you don't take offense.
masui on October 8th, 2002 11:00 am (UTC)
DF- True to you word, you really replied the fuck out of my posts. You put me to shame.
Abra SW: keyholedoorcloudscudding on October 8th, 2002 01:05 pm (UTC)
Fucking Bill Hicks in my Fucking Head
Right. How dare life be messy? How dare interactions be messy?

Because everything you do and everything you say is you. You. Not discoflamingo with the pretty pink-and-blue shoulders, not Nicholas (the man nobody knows because he stays pretty damn well hidden), but you. Doc. Yes, that's who you are, that's who I know you as, that's who I dare interact with. I see you there. Can't fucking hide. Doesn't work.

Just doesn't fucking work.

Right, then. You may have noticed I'm pissed off at you. My mental voice just shifted to Bill Hicks on the worst day of his life.

And you are trying to fucking hide. You are spewing out a motherfucking shitstorm of pettiness, apathy, loneliness, fear, and anger in an attempt to hide this:
What's Important

Hiding from yourself and others. Self-hatred, self-defeat, are ways of hiding.

Yes, death is waiting for you. Maggots will eat your flesh and your mind will rot to liquid. That nice suit will fall to pieces. Unless you get cremated, of course, in which case worms will still eat you.

Death is waiting for everyone. Death will eat whoever remembers you, too.

Death is what waits at the end of the road. And if you run the fuck away from it, you run the fuck away from life, too.

The time you waste worrying about not being remembered, the time you waste worrying about being ignored (essentially, about being already dead in the minds of others), that time is already Death's. You gave it into Death's hands.

Yes, I fear being forgotten. Everyone does, if they're honest. Romance is fear. Religion is fear. Nihilism is nothing but fucking fear.

I'll come back and delete this post in a bit. If you haven't read it by then, well, it's gone. Dead. Will anyone remember it? Will it matter?
Hoc Est Qui Sumusdiscoflamingo on October 8th, 2002 02:18 pm (UTC)
Don't delete it. It's the truth, and the best advice I've gotten in a long time. And besides, it's printed out and will be on my wall shortly.
Abra SWcloudscudding on October 8th, 2002 02:30 pm (UTC)
Oh, fine, now you tell me I can't delete it.

best advice I've gotten in a long time
Wait, wait, there was advice in there? And here I thought it was just my vituperative response to being stressed and annoyed. pissed off at women is a hot button. fear of being forgotten is a hot button.

And besides, it's printed out and will be on my wall shortly.

Dear God What Have I Done.
❀✯ L.E. Arroway ✭✈: featherlyght on October 8th, 2002 03:15 pm (UTC)
The main character in Contact had the same problem -- she wasn't a misanthrope, but that was the corresponding word, and "man-hater" was so damn vulgar. It's a cultural question -- so we can throw around high-minded words about how men feel about women without having the little kiddies understand. But even the two-year-olds know what a man-hater is, and if someone needs something more sophisticated then perhaps they actually do just hate people in general. *sigh*

You MUST read a bit about particle vs. web theory of humanity. You MUST read about I-you vs. I-it relations between human beings if possible. I have a feeling you would be able to dig this the way I dig it -- I can't talk to anyone about it without sounding like a raving loony, but learning these differences totally flipped me inside out. Illuminatus! is a good way to get the same thing without so much hardcore academic langugage...and a lot of sex, drugs, and violence as well. I'll try to dig up my sources. I can't remember where I got the info, besides in the course of taking Deviance and Social Control.

I have no possibility for the moment for any real interactions with you (or anyone else over there, for that matter -- even phones are inadequate), but maybe even a little bit of information transmission might help?
Hoc Est Qui Sumusdiscoflamingo on October 8th, 2002 07:14 pm (UTC)
By all means, rave loonily. If you're excited about something, I'd love to hear about it - especially your so-called crazy ideas. They always make so much more sense when I imagine you smiling as you explain them. And then the cackling . . .

Shit, Lyght - Stephen Wolfram has Ass-Monkey-CrazyTM ideas, and they published a gigantic fucking book of them! And Jon doesn't always let me know when he's done with weird idea books. He usually never is.

So if you find them - let me know. I will search on my own, as well.
Oυτιςerragal on October 9th, 2002 10:06 am (UTC)
Just wanted to say...
I love talking to raving loonies.
Do You Wanna Be Free or You Wanna Be Right?malcubed on October 8th, 2002 05:03 pm (UTC)
Information: I wasn't formulating a response until you told me I was. See? Belief determines reality. I hate to say I told you so...

The eternal conflict: To be merely nonconstructive, or entirely deconstructive? That is the question.

There was more. But it became too generic, so it got generically posted. My love for you is pure and true. That wasn't supposed to rhyme

Or was it?
Hoc Est Qui Sumusdiscoflamingo on October 8th, 2002 07:15 pm (UTC)
Damn you and your spurious logic. Who am I kidding - I couldn't make it through Real (let alone my day) without hearing your spurious logic.

If only you'd been a mathematician 150 years ago. Calculus would be really different.

Pants. No pants. Pants.
Do You Wanna Be Free or You Wanna Be Right?malcubed on October 9th, 2002 02:47 pm (UTC)
How do you know I wasn't a mathematician 150 years ago? Who says calculus reallymakes any sense?

This is the sound of New Math screamng at 150,000 miles per second.
Hoc Est Qui Sumusdiscoflamingo on October 9th, 2002 03:17 pm (UTC)
I don't Pants.