I find myself more pleasant company. I used to think I liked to talk just to hear the dulcet tones of my golden voice. Maybe it used to be true. Maybe it still is, conditionally. I am not an evangelist.
It's another bright sunshiny day, but I'm inside because the ac is nice and my skin burns easy. Forgot to put the sunscreen on this am and frankly don't need to go all lobster. Going out tonight. With adults. To a show. Have to look my best. No, the vanity is still intact. Oh, the yaks. The fields and fields of gentle, unassuming yaks.
Headphones. They keep the world at bay, allow me to wallow in my chosen filth. Allow me to avoid and ignore the ignorance around me, the bad taste, the foolish belief systems, and general stupidity of the world, of this little sunburnt corner of it specifically. I have chosen this life, it's relative poverty (financially anyway, but we are rich in spirit & spirits). I don't need to bother with the talking points of a gaggle of MSM parrots and their reality tunnel vision. After a couple hours though, the the headphones make my ears hurt. Hours is better than minutes though. I am the mad prophet. I like to listen to myself ramble, miss the semantic arguments with people who know what the word 'semantic' meant. But I find that I have no desire whatsoever to preach to these lost sheep, I do not seek to save the lost from Glenn Beck (what will they do now that his tv show is cancelled? Huddle around the radio? Just like real Americans used to when men where men and women and minorities knew their place? No, I will not take book recommendations from you, sir. Not all reading is good reading.)
I was irrationally upset by having my afternoon ruined yesterday by a conversation with a man who not only disagreed with me on every issue, but knew he was right and couldn't figure out why I didn't embody the straw man positions that he has been told 'liberals' have. Sure, I wasn't able to write but it was more than that. This man ruined a bar for me that I really wanted to like. I mean, it's not great. It has a quaint charm but it's beer selection is shameful. But it was the best one in stumbling distance. And I guess, this is the final nail. I don't belong here. I'm a creep. I'm a weirdo. And now I'm ready to go. Last one out of Liberty City, burn it to the ground.
The real issue is that I no longer have any desire to engage with people who are narrow minded. It's not that I only want to talk to people who agree with me, engage with those who will massage my ego and assure me that the world is still a rational and sensible place. Because it isn't and I don't. But I do expect the people I talk to to realize that they have chosen their reality tunnel and that there are others and that all of them are equally legitimate and equally manufactured nonsense. Open-mindedness. Critical thinking skills. A glimpse behind the curtain (pay no attention to that man!). Not all talking is good talking. I don't care if you heed my message or not: I'm not looking to save heathens, just entertain friends and fellows.
So hopefully you are entertained. And I'm glad I got that off my chest.