ZIGGY PLAYED GUITAR

I’ve nearly decided to just go back to keeping a private blog again. I’m not going to finalize that decision now. I haven’t slept and I’m self aware enough to know that I’m kind of upset and it will pass. So I’ll wait to make that decision with a clearer head. It’s not like I have a deadline or anything.

It isn’t just the recent clusterfuck with That Woman. Nor is it merely my disappointment at the lousy feedback rate lately. There’s other stuff. When you do something socially, you critique yourself constantly. You impose a filter, because you worry about what people will think of you. No matter how hard you try not to, no matter how much you want to be honest, the simple fact is, when you write for an audience, you are striving to make a connection. And, as someone or other has said recently, it seems certain people are always doomed to be misunderstood. So it may very well be time for me to give up on trying to reach out, and simply put my efforts into introspection.

I don’t know. Honest to God, I’m very tired, but I can’t sleep. This will probably ramble, I’m not really in the mood for much in the way of formal formatting. None of you have been in the mood to comment lately, so, fine: we all get what we pay for.

Anyway, more and more I’m feeling a need to try and get some kind of understanding, not from other people… which simply seems an entirely futile effort anyway… but of myself. And (this sounds pompous, I know) it doesn’t seem like I’ll do that when I’m inhibiting my own truthfulness in a (completely vain) effort not to alienate people. Of course, if I’m going to keep a private blog, I may as well just start keeping a journal on this computer’s hard drive (I’d much rather type than fill a notebook by hand). But I find the actual process of blogging to be somewhat soothing, and the knowledge that the work will be out there, somewhere, even if no one has the URL, and could be stumbled across at some point in the future by someone who knows nothing about me at all, is one I find vaguely comforting.

There are other alternatives. I could just ditch the chat threads. That would, effectively, leave me writing to myself. (And, having thought of that, I realize that if I start a private blog now, the year’s subscription to SquawkBox I just paid for will be entirely wasted. Well… I suppose I could put comment threads on a blog no one but me will ever read. Hmmm. Yes, that seems like the sort of thing I’d do, actually. But it would still be a waste, if an amusingly whimsical one.)

Anyway, if this is my last public blog entry for a while, then I may as well try to make some sense out of the last few days.

It seems to me more and more that one simply cannot learn specific lessons from social events. Why? Because if you try to generalize some sort of overall policy based on something that happened one time with one person, you’re nearly always going to be wrong, because, well, people are individual and you just can’t assume, simply because one behaves in one way, that others will, also. Not only that, but circumstances are never quite the same. So, there seems to be no real lesson to be learned from anything, and you just have to bumble along as best you can.

It’s comforting to think that. Because if I were to draw a lesson from most of the social events of my life over the last year or so, it would probably be a very depressing one. Something about how people will tell you they’re your friend, and act as if you can rely on them, and then bail on you as soon as you ask them for something… and get upset and act as if somehow you’ve let them down when they do it, too.

However, generalizing that from a couple of rejections over the last year seems foolish, since one has to admit, I have a tendency to attract the attention of deeply disturbed people with severe emotional issues. It almost certainly isn’t valid to extrapolate some kind of life codicil from my experiences last year with Jess, or last week with Unnamed Chickiepoo, because, well, honestly, both of them are nuts, and beyond that, neither of them seems to really be good friend material.

Ultimately, however, it’s just pointless to try to draw any specific lesson. In general though, it’s interesting to note how fervently both Jess and The Unknown Rejecter believe that they, themselves, are entirely in the right, and I am entirely in the wrong.

And that’s the lesson: in a social environment, everything is subjective.

My point of view is I was severely let down by people I thought were my friends. Their point of view… well, I don’t know Jess’ point of view, she didn’t trouble herself with explanations. She Who Must Not Be Named seems to have explained herself at length in the comment threads here, but she simply makes no sense to me. She makes points that I simply can’t see as valid, and refuses to address or even acknowledge the points I’ve made in response… and yet, I’m aware that she sincerely feels I’ve done her a horrible wrong and proven myself to be a creep and a poor friend, while, on the other hand, I know that’s not true, and my perceptions are completely different.

The thing is… and this happens far more than people are aware of… we are, most likely, both correct, and both incorrect, and neither term is meaningful because both are entirely subjective.

There is no objective fact here, other than the fact of what each of us specifically said in our emails (which is why I quoted from those emails at length). Beyond that, though, there are just interpretations and perceptions and beliefs. She seems to have her particular definition of proper behavior towards someone who is trying to be a friend to her, and that definition is wildly at odds with mine… but that doesn’t necessarily make her definition wrong. Nor, necessarily, is mine. It simply means that we are completely incompatible. We are both right and both wrong, and we are neither of us objectively right or wrong. Ultimately, right and wrong simply don’t mean anything.

Except I can’t believe that, because all my life I’ve believed that hurting someone without a good reason is the very definition of wrong behavior, and she did that to me. But that’s subjective, too… no doubt she thinks she had a good reason for being so completely horrid, and would vociferously dispute that particular description of her behavior. I don’t believe, short of her losing her legs in a mining accident, that there is sufficient reason for her to hurt me the way she did after sending all the signals she did in the first place… ahhhhhh… never mind. I didn’t want to rehash the stupid thing.

Just, speaking in general… she thinks she didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sure that’s true. I think she was completely out of line and behaved abominably… but, that’s my own subjective viewpoint. There isn’t really a right or wrong… except she’s so completely callous that it’s impossible for me to believe I’ve hurt her feelings at all, so by my own standards, I may have behaved inefficiently and futilely (in that my behavior did not accomplish my desired goal) but I haven’t done anything actually wrong.

Actually (a word I overuse a great deal), I suspect she probably got a good laugh out this whole thing. Meet a stranger, praise him extensively, bitch about how lonely you are and how you can’t meet a nice guy anywhere, make this guy think you might be interested in him, then burn him to the ground and find a way to blame him for the whole debacle… yeah, I would guess to a certain sort of person, that would seem pretty funny.

Okay, we’re really going to move on from this now. Promise.

I’ve had some interesting emails this weekend, but have no idea if the correspondence will continue, so I’ll just leave that… it’s the sort of thing I’d write about much more honestly without an audience, anyway.

What did I do this weekend other than watch the game with the fam Friday night? Hmmm. Not much. Sean, Pat, Paul and I were supposed to go over to our Aunt Denise’s karioke show Sunday night, which, although I don’t drink, so I don’t sing in front of strangers, I was looking forward to… the four of us never seem to get together at all these days. But Sean and Pat didn’t show up, so Paul and I went over ourselves. I had an okay time… I never have a good time in a social environment surrounded by strangers, but Paul sings very well, and it was nice to see Aunt Denise again. Paul and Denise’s husband Larry did a Righteous Brothers tune (“You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’”) and it sounded amazing. Aunt D. had us judge a monthly karioke contest, and I learned that apparently confidence and a nice smile count for far more than singing ability, since the married couple that won sang, in my opinion, far far worse than the one guy who did a very nice cover of David Bowie’s “Ziggy Stardust”. But they seem to be a popular couple at this show and they win all the time, so I guess that’s more important than actually being able to perform a song well.

Paul, however, was clearly the best singer in the room. He has an amazing amount of talent at this kind of stuff; I’ve also been astonished by just how good a mimic he is… he can casually do nearly any distinctive celebrity or mass media character voice extremely recognizably. But he’s got no ambition; if he doesn’t hook up with some high powered management, he’s simply going to waste his life, much like I have. Sad.

Personally, though, I don’t know why he doesn’t do karioke a lot more often. If I had his voice, and looked as good as he does, I’d be out there singing four nights a week. Chicks love a guy who can sing, and there were a lot of them at this particular karioke show. Some major hotties, too.

Paul had some drama at his workplace yesterday… his supervisor, the woman who hired him, got fired, apparently for smoking a lot of weed on duty and coming in to work drunk a lot. She’s a sad case… one of those unfortunates, like me, who simply isn’t very likable or attractive, and seems to positively psychically reek of loneliness and desperation. She reminds me forcibly that regardless of what TV, the movies, and other mass media fictions tell us, a lot of people don't get happy endings. Many of us do grow old and die alone. That’s almost certainly going to happen to her, and I grow more and more certain as time grinds on that it’s going to happen to me, too.

From what Paul said, he was lucky; the ex supervisor intercepted him on his way to work and warned him what had happened to her, so he didn’t get all nervous when he was pulled in by the regional manager and grilled about Terri’s work habits. Paul is a complete pothead, of course, but he’s been careful not to smoke at the store… which isn’t going to help him if they do a witch hunt down there and give everyone drug tests, since Paul gets high and stays high constantly when he’s home. (I worry about it, a little, but honestly, Paul’s a great deal more fun when he’s really fucking wasted. He laughs at ANYthing you say. It’s great for the ego.)

It seems obvious that the idiots at Accent aren’t going to answer my email, but talking to Paul’s friend Scott, who still works there, has made me more and more discouraged about working there anyway. I didn’t think it was possible for a call center to be run worse than the way Kelly ran the Tampa Post Office Call Center, but from what I’m hearing, Accent manages nicely… at least, here in Zephyrhills. I’d guess the branch my cousin Chad manages in Winter Haven is a much nicer place to work, but that doesn’t do me much good.

However, I have to find some source of income, so I guess next time we’re at Wal-mart I’ll try to remember to ask for an app. If can get on third shift up there, doing stockboy shit, that won’t be too bad. Minimal customer contact I can probably handle.

I’m not sure I noted it, but my Australian editor, Jonathan, has told me that his electronic publisher hasn’t paid him recently for the magazine my work is appearing in, so he can’t pay me. I have no idea what to make of this, but there seems little point in screaming about it or trying to pull the novel they’re serializing. Jonathan consistently refuses to tell me a word about the Jeff Webb Art book I put together for him, but if he’s having problems with his web publisher, that may go down the drain without further note. In fact, at this point, I guess I have to say I’d be shocked if I ever saw another cent from Jonathan.

Other publishers are being remarkably stubborn about stumbling across my work and upgrading my entire life with a serious offer for any of it, which annoys me, but what are you going to do? The State Lotto Board is being just as aggravating.

RULES OF THE ROAD

In one of his many invaluable essays on life in Hollywood, Mark Evanier described his first meeting with legendary TV comic and icon Milton Berle. Upon being introduced to Uncle Miltie and shaking hands with him, Mark, who is a pretty witty guy, blurted out without even thinking about it, “Wow, I didn’t recognize you in men’s clothing”. According to Mark, this soured Uncle Miltie on him from that point forward, because Mark had broken Rule Number One When Hanging With Milton Berle, namely, Never Be Funnier Than Milton Berle.

I’m reminded of that anecdote now.

Recent experiences at Electrolite being pretty much entirely similar if not completely identical to my previous experiences at Uppity-Negro.com and TampaTantrum.com, I thought I’d take the time to extrapolate whatever wisdom there is to find in the whole mess. Here’s The Deal, as far as I can see:

If you want to make friends and influence people when you head out onto the blogging trail, at least, as regards your posting comments on other people’s blogs, you MUST NOT:

Rule E comes mostly out of my experiences with Aaron Hawkin’s Uppity-Negro blog. He gets a lot of female posters and like any of us male geeks would be in that admirable position, he is thoroughly whipped by them. If a new reader comes along and does anything whatsoever to offend the babes on Aaron’s blog, that new reader can expect a cold shoulder from Aaron roughly the size of the Greenland glacier. I don’t really blame Aaron for this; for a male geek, positive female attention is a jewel beyond price, and if I ever had any women posting to my blog who weren’t related to me by marriage, I’d most likely dance and sing like a puppet on a string when they cracked the lash, too.

I should add to this that I’ve learned, from Electrolite, that one Must Not Be Whimsical, Oblique, or Overly Geeky When Posting To A Big Important Political Marketplace of Ideas Type Blog, because those guys just have no time for Theodore Marley Brooks or Cornelus van Lunt references, regardless of how amusing or entertaining you and some others may find them.

Now, I am posting this to point out that while these may be the universal Rules of the Road on other blogs (and as far as I can see, they are, indeed, pretty much universal) you can ignore them here. I don’t care if you:

Oh, and I like geeky references and would just adore whimsical, cleverly elliptical posts to my comment threads, although I suspect I’d get annoyed if someone started posting a whole lot of Harry Potter-speak here, just for one example.

If there is a universal rule on this blog, it is quite simply, Do Not Be A Bigger Asshole Than The Blogger. In fact, if you can avoid it (and most of my small number of regular posters avoid it with style and panache) Don’t Be An Asshole At All. I am quite a big enough asshole myself to supply all the assholiness necessary for any blog, and I will continue to keep this blog well furnished with stupid remarks, doltish mistakes, whiney rationalizations, and defensive recriminations by the ton lot, there can be no doubt. You need bring none of your own asshole nature with you, I have plenty and am always willing to share.

THE INEVITABLE DISCLAIMER

By generally accepted social standards, I'm not a likable guy. I'm not saying that to get cheap reassurances. It's simply the truth. I regard many social conventions in radically different ways than most people do, I have many many controversial opinions, and I tend to state them pretty forthrightly. This is not a formula for popularity in any social continuum I've ever experienced.

In my prior blogs, I took the fairly standard attitude: if you don't like my opinions or my blog, don't read the fucking thing.

Having given that some more thought, though, I'm not going to say that this time around, because I've realized that what this is basically saying is, 'if you don't like what I have to say, tough, I don't want to hear it, don't even bother to tell me, just go away'.

And that's actually a pretty worthless attitude. It's basically saying, 'I don't want to hear anything except unconditional agreement and approval'. And that's nonsense. This is still a free country... for a little while longer, anyway... and if you really feel you just gotta send me a flame, or post one on my comment threads (assuming they actually work, which I cannot in any way guarantee) then by all means, knock yourself out.

Unless your flame is exceptionally cogent, witty, or stylish, though, I will most likely ignore it. You do have a right to say anything you want (although I'm not sure that's a right when you're doing it in my comment threads, but hey, you can certainly send all the emails you want). However, I have an equal right not to read anything I don't feel like reading... and I'm really quick with the delete key... as various angry folks have found in the past, when they decided they just had to do their absolute level best to make me as miserable as possible.

So, if you don't like my opinions, feel free to say so. However, if I find absolutely nothing worthwhile in your commentary, I will almost certainly not respond to it in any way.

Stupidity, ignorance, intolerance... these things are only worth my time and attention if they're entertaining. So unless you can be stupid, ignorant, and/or intolerant with enough wit, style, and/or panache to amuse me... try to be smart, informed, and broad minded when you write me.