huntersmencken

hello its an evil clown .

Ain't that just the state of life, though?

I don't suppose most people really get Leyner. I think he may be a bit too raving for most people's taste. However, we can always place our hopes with the children. If we are very lucky, and read them perverse literature from an early age, the children might just get it.

I'd like to think good-hearted isn't well behaved. Sometimes my only comfort is in being decidedly not well behaved. Why? Well, I need to know where the boundary is, between me and the person I imagine is hurting me. But . . . what I said about text prevails. It matters little what we intend, or whose fault it is. Situations grow further into themselves and become . . . well, in-grown.

As for my childhood, I didn't call out the ghost of my sad father to play "name that pain" with you. I called it out to assure you, since you seem to require this assurance, that I have my eye on my son's heart before all else, because I know what it is to be "damaged" by adults. That's all. A historical fact is a historical fact, not a game to me. Especially my father and all that pain . . . that's no game or exploitative verbal maneuver.

I think it is at least bordering on oversimplification to blame anyone's marital problems on PMS, but, I do find that PMS amplifies in my consciousness what is actually going on. It is usually better for me to not write people, not speak to people, because the reality is too real and the impetus to torch is so strong . . . but it is seldom possible to manage pure silence and oblivion 10 days out of every month. But you wouldn't know what that's like, would ya? Gotcha there.

Oh, and my husband has refused counseling since my son was aged two. I've had counseling, and was told my depression was because I live with someone who probably has a personality disorder. There's pills for depression; there ain't none for personality disorder.

I'm not currently depressed or medicated for such. I've a clean bill of mental health, and you?

Oh, I could use a New Year!

I'll call her, if I can overcome my shyness enough to.

Not to pry . . . well, yes, to pry: what need do you have of hypnosis? You seem pretty together, though none of us is without fragility, in some rarified "completeness" of form and function.

My new job is overwhelming me. I usually get clinically depressed when I work for pay (although never when I pay to go to school). The place seems a sweat shop--hurry, hurry, hurry, and forget about taking lunch . . . let alone federally mandated breaks. Then my boss calls me in at 5, after hours, and talks to me forever when I need to leave to pick up my son . . . and I've told her. Workaholics, ugh! Oh, and the talk is all work-related instructions, off the clock! Jobs drive me crazy. Wish I could just sit at home, like a fat cow and look at my PhD diploma while eating bon-bons.

'night

Uh, I could use some hypnosis for my insomnia. Last night I had to take Peppermint Schapps and Nyquil to finally, finally get to sleep. Yes, I did a re-fucking-lax-a-tion CD too. Waves of anxiety. Mostly anxiety over not getting enough sleep. That's what they call viscious circle, no? Maybe your people can make a better CD for me. I'll pay.

You read Mark Leyner! I will now dribble in my shorts. Pardon me.

no need for the cheese. I have a `71 super (which, coincadently, has the autostick *intact*; mine was originally an auto) and a `70 std for parts...which have already made organ donations

none of the above...piqua

the town was so small and old school...the corner grocery kept all the "feminine products" behind the counter and passed them across to the customer in small brown bags.

H.L. Mencken, meme hacking, postmoderism, orthodontia, worthy friends and adversaries--we've so many key memes in common that I bet your other readers aren't altogether privy to or necessarily into! I'll have to visit you here regularly.

The implications of this medium (is it a medium?) still blow my mind. How meetings occur and with whom--seemingly by chance alone.

Of course, you are commenting on a long, submerged story, involving an RL friend (who gave me this subscription). Only the tip of the berg shows here. He didn't like the way I was "acting" in my writing, when I thought I was complimenting his poems and engaging him. It is he who kicked me out of his "e-space." I still don't understand why, but it does have something to do with jealousy. I can't say more than that without betraying him to an extent I'm not willing to, even now.

So, I need my own space to sort out his decision, without his continuing to send me hurtful email every day, without his rubbing it in and simultaneously tuning me out.

I don't think it is fair that he blocks my email, you know. And so I falter between patience on some days, and anger on others. But, what it comes down to is that he says I "mythologized" him and our "friendship" in the first place and he doesn't want anything to do with me, really. He isn't willing that I speak with my own voice in his presence. So, it really is a matter of his intolerance, not mine. Sometimes there is no choice. It isn't my baby to throw out with the bath water or to keep clean. All I can do is get my own head together about what is essentially his choice and move on.

This year I do keep coming to these sorts of impasses with supposed friends. I have to decide whether I'm willing to keep courting friendship with such continually reduced expectations and within such narrow confines of voice, or whether I'm better off to have out with honesty, my watchword, and accept that relationships don't last forever. Is friendship not founded on open exchange still friendship?

I'm a person who does "dig deep." Too deep. That is the very thing that annoys this person. So, the flick off of the switch you are seeing on my blog is a rhetorical fiat. It isn't my nature to cut. Never to cut off, preempt. I'm just too bewildered now . . . and his one-way trafficking in hurtful words isn't illuminating me.

I guess you are telling me that riding out chaos can lead to interesting, unexpected things. True, if one can meantime stand the pain. I've known this person since the early 1990s, and this conflict won't die. I'm pretty cowardly about adventures based on pain.

The short answer is because a guy handed her to me.

The slightly longer answer is because I'd never met a snow fox before and she was so increadibly cute and fluffy I wanted to giver her a hug. She was docile to the point of being lethargic, and may have been drugged. Wouldn't surprise me, given the guys who owned her. They had a table at the Ice Festival and, after handing me the snow fox, surprised us by demanding money. Oh, so it goes. I gave them some RMB, but not what they asked for.

They raise them for fur, and possibly for meat, too. As the saying goes, they'll eat anything with four legs that isn't a table.