2002-09-9 - 3:57 p.m.
your love is like a secret...…and we all know the rest, don’t we. Or at least you do. I’m pleased to know that you feel qualified to diagnose the psyches of others now. You must have gotten yourself together since the last time I saw you.
Man, I’m a cheap date. I haven’t even made it through the first third of my g&t and I’m already feeling loose. But then again, I’m buying, so that makes it a little better.
You know what? You may just be right about everything you said. I don’t know, I haven’t read it all. But then again, I could have told you all that; all you had to do was ask what my deepest, darkest fears about myself were. And maybe if I was drunk enough, I would have laid it out on a silver platter for you, Sherlock.
Though I haven’t read the entire declamation (I don't know if it's important that I do), I’ve read enough to know that you’ve done what you do to everything – dissected it, crammed it through whatever the process is that you use to make the world make sense to you, and created a clever scenario in which you, though not blameless, are certainly forgivable, and I, who insulted your pride have morphosed into the incarnation of all feminine evil. You turned this unfortunate episode into a chapter of the little richard powers novel that you are convinced makes up your life - "A." the anti-hero that everyone just might cheer for because they don’t know him personally. He looks quirky and amusing through the glass of a computer screen, with all his layman philosophizing and cliché gen-X demon-hunting. But watch out folks, he’s not nearly as harmless as he looks. If he gets a chance, he’ll make you famous. And if he really doesn’t like you he'll crucify you naked in his online journal"
why does that ridiculous line by destiny's child about "dissing you on the internet" keep coming to mind. it seems that even petty, puerile teeny-bopping rockers know what self-satisfied undergrad philosophy students do not. But I forget myself… I did not begin this address in order to insult you. (Okay, the thought did cross my mind but then I though of the attention you deserve and realized that, at this point, I don’t think the conversation ought to continue. There is nothing that you or I could do to restore the friendship that we had. And, I would like to clarify, we were friends. I hadn’t even thought about the existence of anything else until your brilliant practical joke.
You know, upon reflection, I’m sorry that I wasted my time on you. I’m sorry that I didn’t hang out with frat boys. A little less psychoanalysis and personal dissection involved. .
*in case anyone is interested in what i am talking about
i
suggest
starting with 06/04/02...
