army of holders-back

it occurs to me that i am intensly bizarre. i remember one night several years ago now (my god, has it been so long as all that?), having just made love to a beautiful woman in my drunken sort of stupor where i was only partially able to perform as i ordinarily might and afterward laying the darkness that stretched around us like a cloud, running my fingers through her dreadlocked hair asking her to say something mean about me.

understand, all of this is wihtout any underlying masochistic pretext, in fact, there was nothing remotly sexually exciting in the issue at all. i am simple fascinated by brutal honesty. perhaps because it is so rare, and so pure. i never find myself so in awe of people as when they are direct, succinct. not that i always agree with whatever it is they say, just that i admire and enjoy in others what i consider to be a great quality, that of frankness, sincerity. you see, i don't think honesty is unkind, it is merely recieved as unkind as a result of person's subconcious knowledge or fear that the thing said is true, and now, the secret is out. particularly when someone makes great efforts to hide that thing or to pretend it doesn't exist, isn't the case, trying to keep it just below the public radaar-eye. at any rate, directness is, to me, a great testament to the existence and wonder of mankind. in this situation she laid there quiet thinking while i smoked a cigarette, waited.

she ended up making some off-hadn comment about the state of cleanliness at may apartment on her last visit, but i remember that i had the distict impression she was leaving something out. but then, i always have that impression with people, and more and more, as i get older.

it is as if, walking the streets, i am standing in a wildfire of inner seclusions, a vertible army of holders-back and thinkers-not-sayers.

this is most often the way of it. and i take it as proof of my oddity and as an illustration of the depths of human strangeness. indeed, when did all the secret-oppinion-keeping begin? at what point, in our lives, were we taught that it's best to think the truth about someone, but not say it?

maybe, i am not the strange one, eh?

2003-12-10 | 3:15 p.m.
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