2 hours ago
Thursday, January 28, 2010
A Reply
“How to respond to Jane? I could affirm her statement by simply stating that 'I am well. How are you?' but that may not be whimsical enough for her, and I think she deserves a more substantial reply than that. I am usually so long winded and full of discourse that it bores her, but maybe that is exactly what she is missing? I could discuss the idea of presence and say that it is a fluid word and it usually defines a physical state of being but that there are other states of presence of which we both share for each other, but that might be confusing for her. I could tell her that she would recognize me still if we were to see each other on the street and my hair is a bit longer than it was the last time she saw me. The last time we saw each other was a long time ago and we haven’t contacted each other since then so I can understand why she might be having this quandary about having a friend, but I have never been expedient at keeping in touch with people who are not in my physical presence unless there is a specific purpose. I could certainly discuss her wish for a friend and the sociological implications a friend has on one’s life and presence of both mind and being. I could do all of that but it may not be enough and she might even get angry with some of my assumptions which I think are just funny if not witty. I am glad that she wrote on my wall. I am glad that she remembers me and thinks of me as a friend. I don’t know when I will see her next, maybe soon, maybe later. So with all of that I think I will just say....” Hi Jane, it is nice to hear from you. I am doing well and I hope the same for you. What is going on in your life?
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8 comments:
Who is Jane?
My mom says you are nice.
You know like Tarzan and Jane, or Jane Doe, or Jane the hottest girl in town; that Jane. Tell your mom thanks but why did she say that?
Snowbird is in town! That is great. Tell her hi and that I think she is nice as well.
You do realize that anonymity on the Internet is near impossible, right? How's life?
You are right R. Life is fine. How are you?
Snowbird said you were nice because she was watching when I read your blog. And, then she just remembered that you are nice.
We hope to see you tomorrow! If the snow isn't too deep.
You sound cranky. Maybe I'm due for another visit.
Hey, it’s me, Jane. I had a secret desire, since I discovered your blog a few years ago, to be the subject of an entry. Though my name is disguised and the subject isn’t really me, rather the subject is a response, I will consider my secret desire fulfilled. Fulfilled because it is the only response Jane would have been thoroughly satisfied with. I wonder, today, if it is your sociological skill that enables you to project the words that capture me entirely. I wonder if it happens not only to Jane, but to Alice and Leslie, and Kevin and John. I will tell myself I am a rare exception and respond to your response:
I picked up snowboarding. Work is my life. I tire easily. My health is not so good. I buy shirts with brand names plastered all over them, Hurley & Billabong—a rebellion against your disdain. I do it to feel your emotions rising against me. I eat in small local named restaurants to hear your voice of approval for delicacy. I watch movies and laugh mercilessly—I search only for comedies. I take pictures of everything, my loneliness, my realities, my rarities, my monotonies, my tragedies, my triumphs-- in a search for beauty. I write as though you are going to read my novels someday. Though we have not spoken for quite some time, I have conversations with you. We discuss the intricacies of my life, most of which you always disagree with. We don’t discuss your life—because we never did that before, nothing I can change with imagination. I am losing my respect for love. I date hicks and adventure thrill seekers. As a result, thinking is resolved with high intensity and action—movement. In the end you always advise me it’s not what I want. I listen to Damien Rice to feel your ‘state of presence’. I listen to Jason Aldean to ride myself of it. My skin doesn’t feel comfortable anymore. I always want to be somewhere else, be wearing something else, be feeling something else--repentance is becoming more and more necessary every day. I changed wards. I still play the organ. I still have no rhythm. I play my guitar more. I sing more. I eat. I run. I have friends—present and illusionary. Hey, it’s me, Jane. I am glowing.
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