I've come to talk with you again
Because an exchange softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was net surfing
And the idea that was planted in my brain
Within the sound of silence
Apologies to Paul, don’cha know.
My friend Steve (of No More Mister Nice Blog fame) used to write and produce some beautifully arch postcards. One of them was The Cuddly Misanthrope – a decidedly rough, curmudgeonly Teddy bear, sitting at a dive bar with a lit ciggie and a martini in front of him. It was perfect. I could so relate. Unfortunately, after a thousand moves, I no longer have the damn thing and it’s a perfect illustration of where I’m at right this very minute. Rats!
Lately, I’ve been feeling seriously raw. It’s as though someone’s taken a veg grater to my poor sad, rattled being. I’m feeling all tender (tenderized) and shit. WHO, you might ask, is this psyche shredding bastard? Life. Just motherfucking life.
I'm tense and nervous and I can't relax
I can't sleep cause my mind's on fire
Don't touch me, I'm a real live wire
In my current fragile state, every social sitch feels like it’s carrying a bomb. One loaded with condescension laden, sneering brickbats and derision. Is this reality? Fuck no! I’ve already DQed all the malformed asswipes who regularly pulled this shit on me. Not only are they gone, baby, gone, I’ve finally gotten to a place where I understand that these contemptuous folks, with their perpetual need to argue and spew, are the problem children – not me. They’ve left a mark though and, in my current fracturable state, I’m seeing unfriendly sharks and grizzlies where none exist.
I can totes see what’s honestly going on in these more interesting than nice weather we’re having, eh discussions – variegated thoughts and ideas are being expressed, shared. Attacks are NOT about to be launched and incoming. Still, it’s taking me way longer to know and understand this than usual. I’m afraid that, in a fit of panicked, unnecessary self defense, I’m gonna either cower like the scared bunny I am OR I’m gonna break out the verbal broadswords and fry a friendship. I’m decidedly unthrilled about both frenzied responses.
What to do to protect us all, myself included, from my terrible swift misanthropy? I’m taking a minor, semi-limited humanity break. I’m gonna stay off ShoutyFace and the Bird for a few days or so, work out more, take daily dawn beach walks, get back to my deep breathing and relaxation exercises and, just generally, chill the fuck out.
Me and my buds, we won’t always agree and that’s part of what makes the world a far more interesting place. Dammit!