191201 — On Talkin’ ‘Merican — In English, one says, “My use of proper grammar and pronunciation tends to alienate many of my colleagues, customers, and confederates.” Translated, that would be, “Me not talkin’ ‘Merican good wen piss my team members, guests, an’ peeps.”
“I wanna be like – I wanna be like — most girls.”
“It’s so hard when my girls aren’t around me.”
“We only like the popular bands.”
“We all dress like [her] to express our individuality.”
“Oh man! It’s got a mean face on it. Huh-uh!”
It’s inaccurate to refer to these fools as “sheep.”
Sheep don’t write such bad poetry.
Glossaria Vulgaris 19 April 2020 (or, The Tricks of the Treacherous)
When they say “we” it means “you.”
When I say “we” it means “us.”
When they say “kill” it means scold, demean, or belittle.
If I said “kill” it would mean that I’m threatening you.
When I hear “seems” it means appears or resembles.
When they hear “seems” it apparently means “always is.”
When I hear “many” it means “a lot, but not all.”
When they hear “many” it means “all, but especially YOU.”
When they say “Gimme” it means “may I have?”
When I say “Gimme” it means that I am a discourteous jerk.
When they say “what do you mean” it means “why did you?”
When I say “what do you mean” it means “what do you mean?”
When they say “are they not open” it means “are they not closed?”
If I said “are they not open” it would mean “are they closed?”
When they say “I need” it means “Gimme.”
When I say “I need” it means that I think I’m dead without it.
When they say “just” it means nothing.
When I say “just” it means “this, only this, and nothing but this.”
Contemporary social graces demand that I learn their code. ‘Merican sensibilities demand that they ignore mine, because proper English is muh-muh-muh-mean, and BORRRRRing, and is mos’ def’ not groovy, hep, gear, bitchin’, boss, or sick. Though it can be a little gnarly.
210109 – I would have to be delusional — to suspect that I might have contracted an unknown virus before most people suspected it even existed. But as I reflect on the facts and the timing, it still seems to be the likeliest of scenarios (see “Black wit versus Vigorous Immune System” elsewhere in this file). Nevertheless, as an unreliable dource of data, having just received confirmation of my latest sense of dismissal, generously fortified now with distrust, I know that I can never offer any meaningful reassurance. And yet, still, says we “need to talk” about all this. Why? If I am indeed not trusted, what difference does it make what I say? Every word is from a source that has been deemed deranged or delusional, and certainly not trustworthy. Aren’t I a threat to the health and safety of strangers AND the people about whom I have claimed to care? My assiduous observation of the SPIRIT of prudent hygiene has kept me generally healthier than most of the people around me, but history and logic don’t count. What I understand now is that if a virally laden droplet were to land on the wet welcoming membrane of my eye, or her eye, or his, flourish thereafter, and subsequently produce thousands of offspring who were then released to the wild through exhalation or flatulence, again from which uncertain body, there would be no way of proving that it wasn’t caused by my licking doorknobs and toilet seats.
And therefore I could never be forgiven.
The end, apparently.
210204 — The more I know, the less I say.
I know it’s supposed to be the other way around, but for me, when I learn what else annoys my friends and family, I have learned what else to drop from my social repertoire. As I say less, the conversation becomes less rich, less honest, and less interesting. So soon enough, the complaint becomes, “Why don’t you talk to us anymore?” It’s really very simple. I don’t understand why it isn’t obvious. Am I really that much smarter than Earth People? Okeh, I’ll try to be clearer.
The more things I discover that I should NOT say, the less is left.
I do still care, but I frankly don’t dare.
210324 — A Great Shopping Day! Mostly Muzzle Free!
But not for me. I’m in the middle of my promised “To-the-Letter” compliance exercise, so I entered the local ChowMart™ wearing my customary mask AND bandana, because as long as I’m going to look like a compliant “good citizen” I still prefer to affect the “Full Bandito” self-palliating illusion. Nevertheless, I was delighted to count all the naked faces in the shop. And the free-breathers had us outnumbered! In fact, I made it a point to thank the shop clerk who consummated my purchase for the view of his beautifully unclad face. Between returning sanity, fresh air, and deadly ultra-violet radiation, these tender viri don’t stand a chance. (Though their fan club will continue to shelter them in dark and damp places near their moist and mottled faces.)
update 210325, clarifications: “‘To-the-Letter’ compliance” is not only redundant, it is inadequate, insufficient, unsatisfactory, and fruitless.
210801 — Adventures in Bad Lyrics, special edition —
If Mike Campbell & Ian Axel said to me, “Say something, I’m giving up on you,” should my reply have been, “Good-bye?”
If they said, “I’ll be the one if you want me to, anywhere I would follow you,” I would know better. I’ve always known that I had no shot at primacy; the most I could hope for was secondary (and likelier tertiary), and I witnessed no followers for my leads.
Or if they said, “Say something, I’m giving up on you,” maybe I should have said, “please don’t.”
If they said, “I will swallow my pride, you’re the one that I love, and I’m saying good-bye,” I would remain skeptical. Swallow that pride? I don’t see efforts to yield or compromise or accommodate. I either measure up or get out seems to be the case. And again with, “The One.” I’ll never believe that from anyone. Maybe I’m the only one wired this way but NO ONE has ever been “The One” for me. I’m not even sure such a concept makes any sense. Perhaps I was one of a rarefied set, but that’s still not “The One.”
I think leading with “good-bye” would be easier to understand, and ultimately kinder to all. Pretending to preserve what never was just aggravates the anguish.
210830: The Comfort of Trust vs Mutually Assured Destruction
Having someone in your life whom you can trust is a boon.
Unfortunately, according to those I love most, I am no such asset.
I presently have keys to the houses owned by Klint (and Ojuxit.) I expressed my pleasure today at the thought that Ojuxit had found a couple of close neighbors whom she trusted enough to give a key. Later, I reflected that I, dismissed, detached, distrusted and rescinded as I have been, still hold keys to both! Just a matter of time before they finally get fed up and demand their property back. For now, what secures their property in my custody, except perhaps the knowledge that most of mine remains in theirs? Without trust we must instead rely on Mutually Assured Destruction.
Meanwhile, I’ll continue to take advantage of my temporary good fortune.