Saturday, August 04, 2012


Since G in NC misses me, I felt the need to get off my lazy bum and actually try to write again. The truth of the matter is that lately I have felt a bit indifferent as to my 'writing' such as it is. I wonder if I shouldn't just throw it over, and go silent for good. I ponder the meaning of anything that I write having any real value at all, and I think that perhaps I am in a rut. A rut of writing what appears to be the same 'story' over and over again just using slightly different words. An overarching fear that I am so out of ideas, and words that it would be best to stop deluding myself.  For I do some times feel (if I feel anything at all now days) that I am deluding myself into thinking that anything I have written, can write, or will try to write will not make one little difference to the world, or more importantly to myself.

And therein lies the rub. The 'world' as a concept can slag right on off as far as I am concerned, but when I start to wonder if this dribble I befoul the internet with is even making a difference to ME, then I start to despair. Despair and I have quite long standing relationship with one another, and I do not need one more thing to encourage despair to stick around. If this writing thing begins to fail, and odds are that it is, then perhaps I should return to the silent, mindless drudgery that constitutes my everyday life. However, before that (perhaps blessed) event occurs, if it occurs, I have managed to trap one of the many ideas that float through my otherwise empty head on a daily basis, and the result follows. To G in NC for missing me.

I have you surrounded, surrounded by a group of agents and people that while not exactly my minions, are at least on my side enough to help me surround you. They are not your friends, not matter what some of them may tell you. They are not people you should trust with your secrets, hopes, dreams, fears and all the other nonsense of everyday life. Though you already have shared some of those with certain members of this group. I know because after you unburdened yourself to them, they reported it back to me. It was all very touching, at least parts of it, some of it was sad, a bit was funny, and quite a lot of it was pathetic. However, being a faithful group of agents, they report it all the good, the bad, and the ugly, and I get to hear it all and decide what, if any, use I can get out of the information.

The beauty of this, and the thing I am quite proud of, is the fact that these agents of mine are people you would never suspect. People from all walks of your life that you would hardly believe that I even know, and certainly would not think they would be an agent of mine.  Even I am not sure of what motivates them to be on my rather than your 'side' in this little war we are waging, but I've learned not to ask too many questions as to people's motives.  All I am concerned about is the result, not with the why. The why these people do what could be considered betrayal is not something I am overly worried about. The good thing is they do it, and some of them do it with a certain amount of glee that makes me wonder how they have fooled you into thinking they are even remotely to be considered your friend.

They are quite aware of the fact that you and I are at daggers drawn, and as far as I can tell, they seem to want my dagger in your back more than they want your dagger in mine. Of course, I don't really trust all of them. I am certain that since you are not a complete idiot, you might have sent me a couple of double agents. People who report back to you the same things I get to hear about you. Though worming a way into my confidences takes slightly more effort that one would think. You, as we both know from experience, are much more of an open book. It is one of the things you take pride in, and one of the reasons for our current state of affairs. You were open, I was closed, why we thought that would be a good match boggles the imagination, and I am pretty certain we both got exactly what we deserved from our time as 'friends'.

There is little point in trying to guess the identity of these people, one of them might be your barber or, one might be the homeless guy you pass everyday on your way to work, or your best friend, or they might not. They might not even really exist, and this little tale is exactly that a tale. A fable drawn from the (shallow) well of my imagination just to see if I still have an imagination. Or it might just be a figment of that imagination I might be delusional enough to think that I have each doorway you go into and out of covered with an agent of (dubious) loyalty to me and my cause. All of this babble might just be that babble, the ravings of a madman, or it might be the gospel truth draped in the cloak of a fairytale by a man who is just mad. Mad as in angry, angry at you for being who and what you are, angry at himself for not realizing that sooner rather than later, and feeling like a damn fool for that mistake. Angry at the both of us for being alive and on the same planet at the same time.

 If this is that gospel truth, and if you really do exist then you should not feel too bad, you aren't the only one that is surrounded. In many ways we are all surrounded. Surrounded by agents of (dubious) loyalty to all sorts of other people besides ourselves. You, me, and the other seven billion people on this planet all have our own agenda, and rarely do two agendas fit perfectly together. When they do, I'm told, it is a thing of rare beauty, sort of like seeing a unicorn on a perfect spring day. However, most of the time they don't that is why they (the nameless bastards that are always saying shit) that unicorns do not exist. The wonderful news, and the final bit of news that I have for today is that neither do you.

For G in NC, I don't know anything about you other that you are G in NC, but this post is for you with my thanks for the inspiration to write it. I certainly hope you exist.


Anonymous said...

interesting. you tell people you will keep tabs on them when they're your friends? interesting is one word, stalking is another.

The Grand Inquisitor said...

who said they were my friend?