Thursday, April 21, 2011

The Dissectionist At Home






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It's coming for all of us.





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But before it gets here, look at these cool trains I have.





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Maybe that's what it's all about.


I remember this poem that a friend of mine I used to know wrote. John Hughes, you still out there?


Anyway, in this poem it was all these people flying in space, falling or being pulled into the sun, where they were consumed. And there was this big, black book and the thing was that each person would scribble something into it as they were falling into the sun, and just before they burst into flames they would huck the book back behind them to the person just a little farther out, who would grab it and begin their own furious scribbling.

As the heat built and the edges of the page began to blacken.

Then they'd throw it back, to a never ending line of folks headed for their destruction.


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Maybe it wasn't the best poem, but it stuck with me.



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Earlier this week I had the uncomfortable experience of seeing myself through the eyes of someone else, someone who kind of knows me, has worked with me, and....wow.

I did not at all like the person they saw in me.


It kind of rocked me back on my heels.



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I mean, I know I'm an asshole and all....but still.



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The thing is, that's who I am to that person. That's who I am to a lot of people, apparently.

It has its own kind of reality to it.



It isn't imaginary.



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Ah, well, joke 'em if they can't take a fuck.


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Namaste.



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13 Comments:

Blogger Mel said...

First, really cool picture. Second, thanks for the story from the poem, it is a stunning image and allegory, and I will ponder it for some time. Third, I hear you. I have been knocked off kilter several times realizing the dissonance between the me people see, the me I'm trying to be and I guess the me I am. I feel a rush of guilt, shame, anger, frustration, the whole ball of crap because life is overwhelming just trying to get through the day, and having people's expectations or perceptions added to the baggage, when they only see a piece of the picture.... well I yam what I yam and you are what you are, and sometimes being an asshole is a noble and thankless job, but somebody has to do it. For what it's worth, you're a perfect gentleman in the bloggy world.

Namaste back at you.

6:23 PM  
Blogger T. Clear said...

Try as we do, we can't ever really know anyone.

Just my jaded thought, at this stage in the game.

9:09 PM  
Blogger Radish King said...

Ha oh i woke and felt just like your Dissectionist exactly like that and still do and am going back to bed very soon. I have long known that people a lot of people think I'm an asshole. That's okay. I tell the truth kind of in a Tourettes way it spills out and I can't stuff it back in and no one really wants to hear it. I am not socially acceptable but my son loves me and my brother loves me and my cats love me and every dog I've ever met loves me. That's gooe enough for now. For what it's worth I think you are one of the best men I've ever known and you are out doing the good work while most of us hide inside the house.
love,
Rebecca

5:42 AM  
Blogger Ms. Moon said...

What Rebecca said.

6:07 AM  
Blogger AShea said...

From your Annual Christmas Eve Feast Friend...
Happy Good Friday

and

just so you know...
I don't think you're an asshole

Easter Time...Feast Well!

namaste

10:30 AM  
Blogger AShea said...

Okay- Scrap that previous fleeting kindness...If being a GREAT COOK means being an "asshole", then
TAG- YOU'RE IT!

I'll take a free meal & good wine from an asshole and his precious wife any day of the week!

okay. I'm seriously done now.
Be Blessed

10:34 AM  
Blogger dottie kee bones said...

i like all the comments here.


(:

5:39 PM  
Blogger Elizabeth said...

I've been tormenting myself with the knowledge that some people hate me or find me incredibly tiresome. I sort of agree with those people, too. Sigh.

That picture is outrageous. I love it.

10:59 PM  
Blogger LKD said...

I choose to believe the opposite:

We are all coming for it.

I was going to say that I never knew that Bing Crosby (pictured above, holding the Lionel in his hands while Judy sails over his head, clinging to Toto, singing "you'll never walk alone") was a duke, a prince of dis-assembly.

But hell, if rumors are true, and they usually, sometimes are, old king croon did a pretty good job of taking his kids apart.

The dead never rest in peace.

This song just popped into my head:

"I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together.
See how they run like pigs from a gun, see how they fly.
I'm crying."

I am the eggman.

You are the eggman.

Goo goo g'joob.

9:07 PM  
Blogger Jaye Ramsey Sutter said...

Do you have at least one person who would bail you out if you got arrested? Help you pay your attorney's fee. Help you find an attorney to take your case?

Then you are pretty much set for the life of your friend. It may be that we really only get five in a life time.

Joke 'em if they can't take a fuck, indeed.

You are just fine, asshole or not. I would rather have you behind me that coming in after me but at least either way I would know exactly where I stood and that is rare.

11:09 AM  
Blogger Jaye Ramsey Sutter said...

than, not that. I would rather have you behind me than coming in after me.

If you have one friend that will throw your bail, get you a lawyer if you need one, then you are set in life. We are lucky if five people in our whole life care that much about us.

Seems to me you got some serious friends on your side.

11:15 AM  
Blogger Angella Lister said...

This comment has been removed by the author.

10:52 AM  
Blogger Angella Lister said...

You are a good man, Scott. Even when you don't feel it. You are so loved, too. And not just by me.

Sorry about the deletion. I wear clod hoppers sometimes. But the love is sincere.

4:09 PM  

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