August 11, 2005

• I'm the kind of guy in conversatoin who mostly creates the space for someone else to tell their stories. The upside is that you hear the stories. The downside is that people assume that they need to fill the silence.

  There are people who have told me they like being around me because they feel free to be themselves. I'm OK with most of what passes for human behavior; as long as you're not telling me you're a serial killer or that you diddle little kids, we'll mostly get along OK. Or, more accurately: Nothing surprises me. "I'm vegan." "So?" "Well, and I'm into body modification." "And your point is?" "And I like to hang suspended from a rigging by cables threaded through hooks embedded into my skin." "Oh, yeah, I read something about that a while back." "And I have sexual fantasies about Muppets." "Well, it takes all kinds, I guess." "And I work at Microsoft." "You poor soul."

  Like that. I mean, am I supposed to be freaked out? Am I supposed to jump up and down? What?

  Now, if someone *shows me* their piercings, or invites me to come to see them being suspended from hooks, or whatever (for huge values of 'whatever'), then I'll be interested. They're not just yammering. They're doing it. They're out there, being something, no matter how trite or cliché or beautiful or unique it happens to be. They're trying.

  Living a life is the hardest thing in the world, because the main ingredient in any lived life is courage. Human beings are cowards who would rather talk about it.

  So I sit and listen. Listening is what I do. It's my thing. They say, "I'm a vegan." If they asked, I'd say, "I'm a listener." I have no idea why it matters. I don't care that it does or doesn't matter. It's just what I do. Does it matter that you are what you are? Not really. But you have to try anyway.

  • 2:43 am
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