Annie!
I mean you no harm!
In fact I bags be Daddy Warbucks
~~
I really didn't know what your winkys meant. And so therefore I
had
to comment on them. Because the way you meant them
made the difference in whether I was serious or not.
(That's always one of the many big problems we all have
in deciding if we are "really serious" or if we are "just joking".
Because it depends as much on the other guy as it does on us.)
I commented on your winkys in a clumsy way, with an intended humor
that fell flat. I can see that now. And I apologize for it.
But all I meant was that I didn't know if your winkys meant that you were
thoroughly hip to Geoffrey, and so therefore surely were not serious
when you said:
"i retract my earlier statement to let this run forever. let's just leave it dead."
Because to know Geoffrey is to, if not to love him, then at least it's to know
that that could never have worked. Because Geoffrey has never
been known to leave well enough alone. And he never will. Neither for you
nor for the moon. To be sure, he'll say he will. But then he won't.
And eventually you have got to love him for it. His incorrigible consistency.
Provided "love" is the proper word for "being a little bit addicted to
a silly little irritant". Or, if not, then, if you're lucky, you'll at least
get used to it. Or at least figure out a way to live with it.
However, after you said that, -with the winkies,
-then, -the very next day,- you said something with
an entirely different tone, and no winky.
You said:
"you know what geoffrey, i really can't be bothered.
it's too depressing in here. .. over and most definitely out."
Which reminded me that, just a week before, you had said
that you had --
"just read the whole thread from start to finish
and that was one of the most entertaining hours i've spent in a long time
i'd like to thank andrew, lizzy, geoffrey, judith, my mum for having me
thus allowing the pleasure of life and everyone else for the great postings.
... i think we should try and keep this thread going foreeeeeeeeeeever
"
~~~
And that's what put the image of a mouse smelling cheese, about to die,
into my head.
But for God's sake, Annie, I didn't mean it as a put-down!
It was pure empathy!
It was purely descriptive of the dynamics
of the change that had come over you in one week.
Due to my knowledge of the potential energy of the negative
that's always lurking in every thread, - along side the positive
which can also usually be found in most threads, - your effusive
expression of joy at having discovered the positive in this
particular thread seemed to me to be like the smelling of the cheese.
At that point in time you were completely oblivious to the potential
negative energy, which can, in a snap, be converted into kinetic
energy, in any thread. It happens all the time. It happens
to me all the time. It happened to me this time. I really
did not expect the reaction I got here this time. And, as
a matter of fact, I do feel just like a mouse who was simply
trying to nibble a bit of cheese, and to share it with everybody.
And now my neck is broken! And my rubbery little legs, no bigger,
and no more harmful to anybody, than swizzle sticks,
have had their last shudder wrung out from under them!
And all I have left to move is this one whisker. With which
I am typing this.
~~~
I have killed two mice in my life.
The first one was many decades ago when I was first married.
It was the classic scene. The wife up on a chair. Me being macho
with a machete. But the mouse was onto us and so we ultimately
had to resort to the use of a mouse trap. We used Brie.
The snap in the night wasn't loud.
But it woke us both up.
We buried it in the back yard,
after saying a few words. "A short life. But a good one.
He died smelling cheese."
And ever after that, the expression "died smelling cheese"
became a thing with us.
~~
My second murder was, as a matter of fact, just a couple of
days ago.
(Which is why I was primed to use the mouse-trap metaphor.)
A field mouse got in. And I always over-react to these things.
I set up a dozen mouse-traps.
Got it. Threw it out. No ceremony.
Which made me very sad.
"Concerning the first few friends I had."
Because for one thing I don't like killing.
And those two mice were several orders of magnitude
larger than anything else I've ever personally killed.
And for another thing I know, with absolute certitude,
that the expression "died smelling peanut-butter"
will never be a thing with me. Not now.
And not when I'm 64.
~~
And thinking about that just made me realize that there is
at least one consistent way, perhaps the only way, to read
Andrew's poem, that can even account for the title.
(Forgive me if somebody else has realized this already.)
It's that the poem is simply about Andrew and his wife.
Nobody else. No adultery. It's all pretend.
They are role playing. Exactly the way that
all the best Catholic marriage manuals recommend,
in order to help keep a marriage lively.
The poem is 100% playful and completely innocent.
Or I certainly hope so.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Manna said:
"this is obviously Greg, trying to discredit my estimation of
his to-be-taken-seriousliness".
So Manna thinks I was referring to her, and a post of hers,
dated Thursday April 10, 2008, 8:26pm,
in the "The word and the voice of God" thread.
However that isn't true.
And I am unaware of any such post or thread.
Nor would I be disposed to discuss such a post or thread
if it did, in fact, exist, sir.
Truth is, I was afraid that Manna would think what she thought.
But then I thought that she'd think that I would have thought
that she would have thought that, and so I would therefore
have said explicitly that I didn't mean her.
But then I thought that she'd think that I'd would have thought
that she'd think what she thought and so therefore there was
no need for me to actually say what I was thinking of saying.
So I didn't.
And then, of course, when she replied in a way
that implied that she thought in the way that I had thought
she'd think, I knew that that was just her way of confirming
for me that she had in fact thought what I had thought she'd think,
and so therefore she didn't need to not say it.
It isn't that Manna and me are the center of the universe.
It's just that we think alike. Sometimes. In certain ways.
I am quite sure, for example, that I can now play the banjo very well.
Even though I never have.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In summary, with Diane, - I sing to thee --
(and to Manna and Cate who should know better)
PLEASE DON'T LET ME BE MISUNDERSTOOD
(--Benjamin/Marcus/Caldwell)
Baby, do you understand me now
Sometimes I feel a little mad
Well don't you know that no one alive
Can always be an angel
When things go wrong I seem to be bad
-- I'm just a soul who's intentions are good
-- Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood
Baby, sometimes I'm so carefree
With a joy that's hard to hide
And sometimes it seems that
All I have to do is worry
And then you're bound to see my other side
-- I'm just a soul who's intentions are good
-- Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood
If I seem edgy, I want you to know
That I never mean to take it out on you
Life has it's problems and I get my share
And that's one thing I never mean to do
-- I'm just a soul who's intentions are good
-- Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood
