One Thousand Words of Good Bye.

[This was written at first on paper, without a means of computing the word count, and without the word count in mind. The only insertion was the first foot-note, which hardly would have drawn the writer's attention to the word count, for it occurs so early in the piece and was written prior to what followed and even a great deal of what preceded it.]

A Tale of Bitches.

I listened to a song by a Canadian rapper today. The song was entitled “I got yo Bitch”. I do confess that I reposted it and even added it to my playlist called “The Next Level”. It was an ironic appeal that it had to me, of a nearly sadomasochistic sort. I of course imagined Mr. Gemoney to be “singing” towards an adversary, as an act of vengeance, and whilst I could not “get behind” his vengeful sentiments I could neither deny its affective appeal on a visceral level.

It made me think of Ketchup. I supposed, with the same instinctiveness, that hip-hop did not turn people into assholes; ass-holes simply turned hip-hop into some thing it was not supposed to be.

If you disagree, then perhaps you approve of the line: “She up in my crib cooking bacon and grits.”

You get the idea.

It was very hard to come to terms with our initial deal: that if I did what I could do to get the band back together then you would never make out with him in front of me.

It seemed too rational and reasonable, too generous and kind, for me to protest without becoming guilty of passion and self-interest. After all, your earlier argument that I should not be AFFECTED by your “private lives”* was still tempting. Yet apathy is the worst of sins. Just as easily as I could praise your kindness and consideration I could not deny that the very THOUGHT of your sleeping with him drove me viscerally mad. At first my instinct was of course to dismiss this as a covetous logocentric projection, as any decent man would do in a knee-jerk. Yet the more thoroughly and profoundly that I analysed it the more the imminent Absurdity of it stared me in the face. Besides: You had all ready proven to me that such projections, logocentric as they might appear, do tend often to be sources of truth, emanating from a rung of the Unconscious that is unmuddled by cultural hypnosis. In effect I must thank you for helping me to transcend my Derridean Period.

*As shall be demonstrated, it is even the notion OF a PRIVATE LIFE that I find now totally intolerable and indefensible.

Undoubtedly what bothered me most was simple: The thought that the two of you would even have all ready dared to enjoy your selves, and each other, not only WITHOUT me, but in SPITE of me. It continues to this very day, over a year later, to haunt me like any past trauma. My nose-bleeds might be less common, yet the dizzying disorientation at the thought of it still challenges my entire Grasp.

I did not know that that was possible! What possible motive could he have had to DO that if he knew not only that I would prefer to do so, but that I would prefer HIM *NOT* to. I tire and sickcen at his feeble attempts at a justification. The audacity he has to accuse ME of harbouring self-interest, insisting that he “did nothing wrong” (though the objective facts of my infuriation should serve as a haunting reminder to the contrary, as well as his OWN stated preferences) because he simply did not do what *I* wanted him to do. What blatant insubordination! He had literally no alternative!!

It was HIS act, ultimately, that was an act of aggression, simply by his choice to even Differentiate HIS desires from MINE! So how on Earth can he claim to condemn me for excessive desire and covetousness when, in place of seeking the Higher Way and foregoing his Own desires, leaving mine to the test of fate, for that would have been Humble of him rather than Totalitarian and Presumptuous, he blatantly discarded all attempts at moral supremacy and acted upon his OWN passions?! How is it that a man can in the same breath state his deepest fears of abandonment and yet try to justify my own abandonment? How can he condemn my desires and yet retain his own? We gave him the chance to redeem his failure, of course But the insolent knave refuses! He does not even ADMIT that he had WRONGED me and damaged not only HIS Soul, but YOURS, by permitting YOU to participate in the same missed take!

Of course, this was precisely my reason for abstaining from any kind of sex for YEARS.

I even started this blog, with his encouragement, with the primary intent of deconstructing (though I did not know this term at the time) my sexuality, for I could see the problem of participating in ANY sort of activity that one did not believe, with fervour and zeal, to serve all Beings.

After many fleeting yet laborious years, and with the aid of Brandan Whearty, as well as all my old true friends – Kierkegaard, for instance – I came again to recall the integrity of True Love. So of Course I expected him to respect and even to REJOICE at my decision to court you, for there should have been no greater joy to his heart than to see his friend, long celibate and patient, to have found a proper match. To this day, he still can not produce a warrant for his self-interest, for why did I not deserve you? And sho8uld HE not have taken part in THAT joy?!

You know that I harbour no self-interest. Yet as an extension of my services to him and you I must correct your errors when I would have done differently. The tautology works: Because I am selfless, my word is law, and because my word is law, I can defend my selflessness. Would you not have aspired towards the same peaceful heights? Would not most? What alternative do we have?

Competition is all ways suicide;

Victory at the expense of an other is, as Ketchup should have Known from the Oracle,* all ways Death to both parties.

                                                                                                            Dm.A.A.

*the I Ching.