Secret Aging Man
17 November 1998
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Secret Aging Man
17 November 1998
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Do you ever find yourself waiting for a phone call without having the slightest idea of who might call? Lifting up the receiver every time you come back to your desk, no matter how briefly you were gone, just in case you have voice mail? Checking your email every 5 minutes or so?
No? Oh, well I guess it's just me then. I don't know what I'm expecting, but I sure wish it would show up. Maybe I just wish that something, anything would show up. An aneurysm, even, that would be interesting. But I don't know why.
I started to write a bio page last night, in answer to a couple of requests. I hadn't meant to get into too much detail, but as I was writing I got involved in explaining one thing or another, and the time-covered/words-used ratio started to shrink. And then all of a sudden, I got to a certain point in my life and froze. I guess I hadn't been thinking ahead when I started. I was going to write about this?? No way.
"This" was a particularly bad stretch of time, from about 1982 to 1992. While a good part of it was spent in an eventless stupor, it also was a time when I did some of the most foolish things I've ever done. Got married, for instance. Twice. "Foolish" is actually a little too kind.
Here I was, about to launch into the story of all that happened, and I found that it wasn't so much telling strangers about it, or even worrying that non-intimate non-strangers would read it. I just did not want to face it, didn't want to think about it, remember it at the level of detail it would take to summarize it. I don't want to talk about it even to myself! Jeez. No idea I was in that much denial. But then, I guess not having an idea is the point, eh?
You might point out, aren't I talking about it now? Ah, but this is that nice satellite view I've taken for the last several years. Look how pretty that hurricane is down there!
Anyway, I haven't figured out how I want to handle it all yet, so I just weaseled out of the situation for now. But it still feels strange. As much as this all is an exercise in public exposure, it's a way to invent* the self being exposed as well. An actual documented past just gets in the way of that.
Oh, and, umm.... nothing funny happened today.
Well, not that funny. And it wasn't today anyway.
OK, OK:
From: someone else To: me Subject: Re: Chimpanzees > > Bonus round: > > What do you call a homosexual ape? > > I don't know - Darling? A Chimp Pansy, I'm reliably informed.Told you it wasn't that funny.
* I was apparently not the only one engaged in invention. I just hope I'm not as stuck-up about it as I go along. But then, I wouldn't know, would I? Oh well, glass houses and all that.
Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.
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All names are fake, most places are real, the
author is definitely
unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep.
© 1998-1999 Lighthouse for the Deaf. All rights reserved and stuff. The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne. | ||||
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