You knew what I meant

Thursday 7/17/25

As I said back on June 11, I sent "Friendship Bracelet" in an email with a nice letter to about fifteen people. Friends, "friends," family, three people at a press. Not a single person said a thing about the story. They all acted as if they never got it. Like it didn't exist.

Cool.  

I mailed a printout of the story to someone last week. They received it yesterday and texted me this: "I just got the mail and the most beautiful story. I loved it! It made me cry. Then it touched my heart and I felt a peace come over me. You are amazing. Like no other."

At least someone said something. A person can't make a better anything than that story. That's what I was going for with it. The story is about bullying. Told from the perspective of the bully. How do you produce that response with such a story? It's a unique masterpiece. And anyone who read it after seeing me saying that would think I wasn't beginning to do it justice. That's also why publishing people would wish to keep it from the world. And because it was by this person and could only be done by this person.

I ate an apple yesterday with confidence. I hadn't eaten an apple in a little while with my tooth situation.

Remember how when you're a kid that's what you'd do with a loose tooth? You'd have an apple, hoping to see your tooth painlessly embedded in the fruit. I suspect the success rate, though, was actually rather low.

Saw a political ad in which the guy said, "I was on transition..."

On it? Not in it? Were you riding it? Did it have a little saddle? Did you say "Yee haw!"

I encounter this constantly now. People have no idea what words mean and how to use them. Everything is some degree of off at best. Similarly, someone talking about the Beatles: "I resonate with Blackbird." First of all: You need quotes around a song title. Secondly: No you don't. You don't resonate with something; it resonates with you.

Is that really that hard? It is now for people.

Another one:

"Ah! Friend, then you haven't seen "the Wire" lol. While I love the stilted, hoity, "high cunt-mouth" of 'Deadwood', it lacks the realism and insight that a "cop drama" has on modern life. I love dramatics and theater, but there's no substitute for realism. Realism cuts to the bone harder and faster than any fictional drama ever could."

It's almost impossible to be someone who ever writes "lol" and not be an idiot. Don't do it. You're an adult. Be smarter. You want to be funny, be funny. If you are, you won't have to flash some sign that that was your intention.

People just use "lol" to use it, though, and as safety netting. You can see how insecure they are. That is, "lol" is typically used to cover their ass, as if to say, "If you think this is stupid, and if you think I'm stupid for saying this, then this 'lol' means I didn't really mean it anyway." It's a back-up plan. Saying what you want to say and be committed to it. That isn't the same as forever wed to it. But mean what you say. Don't do this cowardly passive shit. That tells me that you don't take yourself and your mind seriously, so why should I? Why should anyone?

But look at everything wrong in the above. It's almost everything. "...on modern life." The realism that a cop drama has on modern life? What does that mean? This person also doesn't understand that what they're saying is that realism is nonfictional by definition. That's not how that works.

I swear, it's like people know nothing now. Not even the most basic things that I just thought most people knew when I was like twelve. People don't even know what they're actually saying. They don't know what the words mean. They don't know what "of" means. "In."

You can't get more basic than these things, and people don't get them. And don't say, "You knew what they meant." Do I? I should have to play interpreter because someone is incapable or unwilling to make the effort to say what they mean? If you want someone to know what you mean, actually say what you mean. Not what "stilted" means either. This person is also saying there's never been a single example of theatrical realism. Pinter was doing Harry Potter shit and I somehow missed it.

But I'd be my life that they think they know best. That there's no way they're wrong about this or anything.

And if they encountered something like this, they'd turn it around and say "Who cares?" like caring is a bad thing and you shouldn't be concerned that this is how it all is now and society goes lower and lower and lower, and people become more and more unhappy and alone and mentally ill as they live lives devoid of purpose and substance. We demonize caring. Passion. Trying. Giving a fuck. Thinking it best to get things right. You're not chill, you're a pedant. People want you to be as lazy and dumb as they are. We demonize the idea of correctness. Expecting it. Having it as a standard.

With most people, they get what they want when it comes to other people. What are you going to be? With the in-crowd or off on your own? No one wants to be off on their own, so more and more people who might have tried and cared and been more are going to stop doing all of that or never get started on what they might have, and they'll fall back into the fold, or go down further within it, which is so easy to do. You become your environment. As you live a life of pointlessness and ignorance, with no strivings and no awareness and no individuality. The miasma is the environment. People are an environment.

I see all of these writers--who are really pretend writers--talking about writing with each other online. Everything they say about writing is wrong. As far from correct as is possible. What I notice, though, is how they all do what each other does. The more time they spend talking to each other, the more similar they become. They don't do anything that's just their way and their way alone. That's human nature. You take on the characteristics of the group. I don't. I'm not talking about me.

But I see these people and whether they know it or not--and trust me, they don't--their conversations end up creating all of these rules they then all follow. Things have to be done a certain way. You can do this but not this. To do your own thing is to rebel and risk rejection and banishment from the circle/the group (or that's what think, anyway, in the back of your mind, what you feel), and if you're doing something that isn't agreed upon, you're also doing wrong. In your mind, you don't have backing. Support. On a subconscious level. You're not going to do that thing that isn't the accepted thing. And do you know how rote that thing is going to be if all of these half-wits think it's the thing to do, that they all agreed upon together?

No wonder nothing but shit comes out of MFA programs. I don't see how it couldn't. No wonder all of these Brooklyn writers and literary fiction people are indistinguishable. You will end up writing like other people write if you're a part of the writing community.

I admit...it'd be different, I'd feel somewhat differently, if I saw anything different than that ridiculous post above. But I don't. I never do. I can't take some comfort in seeing any intelligence because there virtually is none now. I don't know who else sees that. Or who can. But I see it with such clarity. There's never a break in the pattern. The mishmash. The waves and waves of it. I have so little hope that hardly anyone here can be anything but stupider and stupider.

That leaves nothing for me. More so with what I do. Because that is dependent on people not being stupid and lazy. The plumber depends on the pipes, not people. I am not the plumber. And more so with what I'm looking for in people. Romantically or fraternally.

I rarely mention romance much on here. I have pretty much given up on the idea that anyone will ever be close to smart enough, moral enough, and strong enough for me. I don't think that person exists. I don't think a person exists who would be one of those things, let alone all three.

And right now? While it's like this? What am I going to do? Go on dates and then return to this thing that is worse than hell? No. The worse-than-hell thing would have to be all over. And it doesn't look like it will be until I'm dead. Plus, no one on earth would want to go through this with me. They'd want normal things. I have no normal things to give anyone right now. Life-wise. But there basically isn't anyone I can stand longer than two sentences. They say a few words, and I'd be forever uninterested anyway.

The Monument was closed yesterday. I walked over there anyway, despite knowing the rules--no entry when the heat index reaches 87 degrees--hoping maybe it would be a couple degrees cooler in. Charlestown or that someone would be on hand and they'd let me in for a solo flight, so to speak.

No soap. Flags weren't flying outside, and presumably no rangers were inside of what is called the lodge. It's now been three days without any stairs. That's not a horrible thing--after all, I've been sick. I expected this, too--losing days to heat closures. But five leisurely circuits in the Monument would have been better yesterday. I expect today to be my last day of illness.

Postscript: The Monument was closed again. Walked over to Charlestown. No signs of life inside the lodge. Again no flags flying out front. The temperature was 84 degrees, the heat index the same, which means it should have been open, but I guess they made a judgment call. The dew point is 76, which is miserable. The very worst time of the year. These are the days on the calendar I hate more than any other. I had to go to CVS and needed another show upon returning.