Monday, September 26, 2016
I recognize somebody walking down the street. It's bustling. I say a quick hello and smile. Nothing.
I see him again in the subway. I give a little wave. Again, nothing.
This is a friend of a friend. He doesn't know me well enough to be angry with me.
This happens with this guy semi-frequently. We travel in some of the same circles at the same time. I am accustomed to giving a fast, non-invasive greeting when I know somebody. Nothing overwhelming. If he's worried that I want to have a conversation with him, he needn't be.
I go over the social strata that I travel in. It is indeed customary to say hello when you see someone you know even a little bit in a public place. I ran into another guy earlier, someone I know even less. That was an entirely different reception. What a difference! This guy seemed delighted - enchanted, even.
I speculate that the unfriendly man doesn't have peripheral vision. I speculate that he has a rare disorder where you cannot recognize faces in public.
Before considering early onset dementia and autism spectrum disorders, I quit it. I must face facts. There is a commonplace explanation for what is going on. And since I've had an extremely good and relaxing day I take my epiphany rather well.
The friend of a friend doesn't like me. He does not want to exchange even the smallest of pleasantries.
Not everybody is going to like me.
This feels liberating so I take it a bit further.
Not everybody is going to like my photography. Not everybody is going to like my writing. Not everybody is going to like the collages I make.
If I go out to a restaurant with Jeremy and dress up, many people will like my outfit. But not everyone. Some people will think it looks like crap.
I am not Beyoncé. I am not to everyone's taste. I'm like a sister to a lot of guys. But a few men find me sexually attractive. I'm either an acquired taste, or a highly specialized one. I'm good with it.
For some I'm funny. For others, I'm annoying.
So after having an unusually satisfactory day and thinking about it much longer and in greater detail and with more analogies than necessary I was a calm, non-attached observer to the friend of a friend liking my friends very much and me not at all.
It didn't even bother me that I previously thought he liked me well enough and that I misjudged the situation.
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Thursday, September 22, 2016
Hands are to clasp.
Paper to crease, in two, then four.
Thread is to sew.
The fabric to warm, to reign.
What once was asunder.
What once lay splayed and wrecked.
Get me the lamp.
Fetch the bandages, the salve.
I can't do this on my own.
I can't fix it in the dark.
May I weld hot and straight.
May I cobble.
Rough hewn and jaunty.
It doesn't matter how it's done.
As long as it snaps shut.
Sure in itself, sure of you.
Affix, iron smooth.
Pull apart, undo.
Only if you can knit together.
Purl one, purl two.
More beauteous and bountiful than before.
Words to cajole.
That dollop of honey.
Lap it up, scrape the jar.
The repast is yours.
Take your time, for sweet after bitter.
Is better than sugar alone.
Procure me the finer things.
Cashmere wool, marbled paper.
Trained eyes, a wide wood table.
A window to let in the sun.
And a pretty curtain to keep it out.
Barter the merchants, best you can.
But I'll work with whatever you have.
For me, this provider, this job doer.
Even the cheap tools will do.
Check out some previous posts here:
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Wednesday, September 14, 2016
Somebody will seem perfect. They achieve something you've tried in vain to pull off. You feel the smack of comparison. You're lacking. And worse, now you have an audience.
The competent individual is not a better person. They've done this dazzling thing because they can. They can, so they do. You would if you could.
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