This series of posts was phenomenally enjoyable and surprisingly bittersweet, and I have so much to say about so many of them. But, seeing as this is the one “about me,” I will try to contain my responses herein.
I am genuinely touched, and like many card-carrying members of our generation, genuine moments frighten me. I barely know how to process one, let alone frame my response to one.
Should I correct the errors? (eg Hans Joe-lo dragged me down the steps at Putnam, not Sorrento.)
Render my response incomprehensible by littering it with inside references? (see, for example: a brain bug from outer space; that's you, you’re a triangle; PUNCH SLATER!!, Monkeys!!! and every delusional moment in which we thought we were talking like 1930 gangsters.)
Build up a habitually self-effacing list of reasons why you’re wrong about the mismatch between my outward persona and my ultimately getting everything right? (This is really just an excuse to stretch somewhat and mention that, in the days immediately following a certain traumatic breakup – yours this time, not mine – I’ve always been somewhat chagrined and mildly horrified that the best I could offer you was not insight, comfort, or wisdom, but the chance to watch me play the demo of Warcraft I had just downloaded.)
Trade pieces of these memories? (Do you remember when you first handed out the ‘zine in which my bus trip with homophobia was chronicled? In the midst of the sad, barren dorm lounge, with all those sad, stunted grad students gathered for and over-analyzing Must See TV, and set against a musical rising crescendo which clearly indicated the Stakes Were Rising on ER, I was forced to leave the room in a life-threatening and uninhibitable giggling fit. You don’t get many chances to laugh like that.)
However, in the absence of my own publicly accessible forum for such things, what I think I’ll do is build upon this moment of semi-genuineness and say thanks. And not just for the endearing post(s), but for everything you’ve brought into my life. Sure, everyone knows you’re wicked pissah funny and smart and an irritatingly brilliant writer and oh-so-easy to adore. Those are the easy things to notice and appreciate.
But to sidestep the obvious Robness for a moment, your open, accepting spirit may have meant much more to me than others. I’ve been dorky, I’ve been lame, I’ve been horribly mistaken and I’ve been ridiculously out-of-sorts . . . and you’ve barely blinked through any of it. Right, wrong, sad or happy you were clearly on my side at all times, and you always served to reorient me to who I wanted to be when I was adrift, both so effortlessly I suspect you’ve never even realized the truth of that. But, you’ve saved my life more often than you may realize, wherein saving my life is operationalized as preventing me from falling off my rocker even further or compounding my mistakes. And you did it simply by being a constant, stable, trusted and accepting presence which, you may know, tend to be in short supply in my life. Indeed, no pretense, no competition, no anxiety throughout, not only because we clicked, but because you are yourself such a generous p-i-m-p. I can’t thank you enough for that. You’re a good man, Charlie Brown. You will be missed.
Jeesh, I thought I was building to something slightly different, but the further I got into it, the more I realized you had already summed this up spot-on in your original post. But that didn’t stop me from stealing your words anyways. This is *exactly* what I mean about your frustratingly brilliant writing.
In conclusion, yeah, I finally got to see these. And I will accept this series of posts as King Floyd V. However, now I am simply going to start bothering you about when you’re putting out KF VI.
The posts you wrote Got me through a lot Just want to tell you that But it’s too late. Yes, it’s too laaaaatttteeeee aaaa, dontcha know? It’s been too late . . . for a long time.
You gotta have something stupid to say.
This series of posts was phenomenally enjoyable and surprisingly bittersweet, and I have so much to say about so many of them. But, seeing as this is the one “about me,” I will try to contain my responses herein.
I am genuinely touched, and like many card-carrying members of our generation, genuine moments frighten me. I barely know how to process one, let alone frame my response to one.
Should I correct the errors? (eg Hans Joe-lo dragged me down the steps at Putnam, not Sorrento.)
Render my response incomprehensible by littering it with inside references? (see, for example: a brain bug from outer space; that's you, you’re a triangle; PUNCH SLATER!!, Monkeys!!! and every delusional moment in which we thought we were talking like 1930 gangsters.)
Build up a habitually self-effacing list of reasons why you’re wrong about the mismatch between my outward persona and my ultimately getting everything right? (This is really just an excuse to stretch somewhat and mention that, in the days immediately following a certain traumatic breakup – yours this time, not mine – I’ve always been somewhat chagrined and mildly horrified that the best I could offer you was not insight, comfort, or wisdom, but the chance to watch me play the demo of Warcraft I had just downloaded.)
Trade pieces of these memories? (Do you remember when you first handed out the ‘zine in which my bus trip with homophobia was chronicled? In the midst of the sad, barren dorm lounge, with all those sad, stunted grad students gathered for and over-analyzing Must See TV, and set against a musical rising crescendo which clearly indicated the Stakes Were Rising on ER, I was forced to leave the room in a life-threatening and uninhibitable giggling fit. You don’t get many chances to laugh like that.)
However, in the absence of my own publicly accessible forum for such things, what I think I’ll do is build upon this moment of semi-genuineness and say thanks. And not just for the endearing post(s), but for everything you’ve brought into my life. Sure, everyone knows you’re wicked pissah funny and smart and an irritatingly brilliant writer and oh-so-easy to adore. Those are the easy things to notice and appreciate.
But to sidestep the obvious Robness for a moment, your open, accepting spirit may have meant much more to me than others. I’ve been dorky, I’ve been lame, I’ve been horribly mistaken and I’ve been ridiculously out-of-sorts . . . and you’ve barely blinked through any of it. Right, wrong, sad or happy you were clearly on my side at all times, and you always served to reorient me to who I wanted to be when I was adrift, both so effortlessly I suspect you’ve never even realized the truth of that. But, you’ve saved my life more often than you may realize, wherein saving my life is operationalized as preventing me from falling off my rocker even further or compounding my mistakes. And you did it simply by being a constant, stable, trusted and accepting presence which, you may know, tend to be in short supply in my life. Indeed, no pretense, no competition, no anxiety throughout, not only because we clicked, but because you are yourself such a generous p-i-m-p. I can’t thank you enough for that. You’re a good man, Charlie Brown. You will be missed.
Jeesh, I thought I was building to something slightly different, but the further I got into it, the more I realized you had already summed this up spot-on in your original post. But that didn’t stop me from stealing your words anyways. This is *exactly* what I mean about your frustratingly brilliant writing.
In conclusion, yeah, I finally got to see these. And I will accept this series of posts as King Floyd V. However, now I am simply going to start bothering you about when you’re putting out KF VI.
The posts you wrote
Got me through a lot
Just want to tell you that
But it’s too late.
Yes, it’s too laaaaatttteeeee
aaaa, dontcha know?
It’s been too late . . . for a long time.
Oh. Except I guess I’ll see you soon(ish).
xxxooo,
Steve