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| ("And it's a babe magnet!') |
Robin Morrison has pursued life like a senile butterfly enthusiast, rushing off without so much as a net, always feeling he's left something behind; for example, the memory of where he came from before he emerged to mate and some day die.
He is old and unwise. His sword arm is shot, and he agrees with the authorities that there's nothing like a good blaster at your side and stomping on anything that still writhes. He calls this 'writing'.
"Writing protects me from reality," he said. "Readers protect me from my creditors.
2 comments:
Well I finally figured out who "Robin Morrison" is,
"boscohorowitz"!
Took me awhile.
Howcome you don't wanna look at comments on TAE.
Don't take it personal.
Just observe.
You've sat at bus stations, haven't you?
Approving Doctor Day
Specifically, it's the volume of highly intelligent erudite commenters who claim to be viewing things from an enlightened detached perspective when they're really just squeaking their rubber ego horn.
It reminds me that, come anomie, persons one can trust will be far and few between.
It wouldn't be so bad except that other folks, like yourself, approach the thing with a genuine attempt at honest earnest self-responsibility. The polar extremes fuck with my head in a way that make it very hard for me not to waste energy decrying the hypocrisy inherent to the (predominantnly) more smug posters.
Another way of looking at it is that, despite the worth of the positive and logically congruent posters, it isn't worth the aggravation of reading the negative posts. I simply *HAVE* to register the emotional dissonance they cause me for the same reason that I increasingly have to pay very close attention to my surrounding whenever I exit the apartment, not just for microbial pathogenic reasons but because there are increasing numbers of people who ain't got none who want some. Just as wife and I will soon find ourselves emotionally forced to take in some vagabond stray or similar de facto refugee, and must therefore be shrewder, more authoritative of our personal power sphere, and be less tolerant of certain kinds of arrogant presumptive ignorance (a growing hot commodity).
I've not only sat at bus stations but spent countless hours by the side of the road with my thumb out. I have an acute sense of how callous and uncaring most people are outside of their indoctrinated safety bubble.
Good little Germans are worse than Brown Shirts, imo. Germany was spared discovering its woprst aspect by being conquered by Allied forces. They could blame the Holocaust onh NAZIism, Had they not been rescued from their oppressive government, they would've discovered how ruthless they could be to their neighbors.
As it was, even with the Marshall Plan, etc., they got a fair taste of anomie in their homeland... b ut not nearly enough to understand that shallow people dig deep graves. It's the imminent stench of those graves that I hear in the likes of certain posters over there (who shall remain unnamed) that I simply can't hold my nose enough to endure even with a sock mask in place. ;)
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