I listen to a handful of podcasts. If Books Could Kill discusses books that have gotten popular over the years, and the basic absurdity, lies, and lack of reasoning we tend to digest without question. It wasn’t anything about any particular book that struck me though. A comment about J.K. Rowling from one of the hosts did. He, in as pious and pithy a manner as one is capable, dismissed a podcast series by Megan Phelps-Roper trying to explore communication barriers associated with all that drama.
It’s stuck with me because, dude, you’re literally hosting a podcast attempting to critically think, but when your token issue is addressed methodically, purposefully, and masterfully, you default to the same dismissive arrogance and snap judgment that fuels the popularity of ridiculous books for ridiculous people.
No matter how confident we get in our intellectual posture, we’re a fucking joke. No one, literally no one, should be trusted, ever to speak beyond the bounds of what they specialize in, and then, other experts in that specialty need to be actively criticizing and humbling and rounding out the picture. You can’t be “generally intelligent” if you’re going to eschew the wisdom of asking questions and working with the specific claims of the material you otherwise deign worthy of instant dismissal.
Shuffle.
For as much as I worry about manipulating, I’m a professional manipulator. I get a handle on your behavioral pattern, apply the right tone and words, and you walk away, more often than not, at least thoughtful, if not inspired, provided you’re not fundamentally hostile to me or the task at hand. It’s so deep an instinct that I used to black out and have people tell me all of the wonderful and caring things I would say that I had absolutely no memory of.
As such, I have developed a partner instinct to instantly recoil at too much praise or if I see that you are “too into” whatever I’ve done or said. This most highlighted last year when, for the first time in my life, I wished my step-mom a happy mother’s day. It meant something to her. I care about my step-mom. I like her. I want her to succeed. I wish I could do more to contribute to the incredibly cool things she’s doing with reselling and crafting. I didn’t wish her a happy mother’s day this year because I pulled so far away from her reaction last year, I felt I’d be getting into that dangerous space of “too much” endearment.
The distance protects you as much as it does me. If, and I still consider it a strong if, I’m more autistic than not, I’m literally incapable of matching the depth of the feelings I can illicit, at least for prolonged healthy “normal” ways, if that’s the goal. You have to understand, I’m outside. My feelings are either compulsive, or working to be controlled. There is no “simple” version of liking or “loving” anyone that doesn’t have a whole world of context and trust built around it. My dad’s known me my whole life. He’s not going to find himself “under my spell” that I didn’t intentionally cast in the first place, nor do I have to explain and walk back when things have gotten out of hand.
The closest memory I have that pairs with pulling back on happy mother’s day sentiments is when I told my friend Brett that he must have caught me on a good day when I said something encouraging about him going to bed early on a night we were partying in college. He felt a certain kind of way that I respected his decision and drew on that memory years later when I was at his wedding. I discouraged the positive association. To me, I’m just as likely to call you a bitch (in good spirit, but still, especially back then) as find myself in the mood to be like, “You know, that’s respectable, good for you!” My “real” friends would maintain that kind of disquieting skepticism or qualify any positive emotion they’ve drawn from me, THEN take away the fact that, I was sincere. You don't just get the feel-goods by themselves.
It sounds like a weird mind-reading immature game based on my inability to trust myself, right? But I do trust myself. I don’t trust your perception of me. So I try to train your perception with good and bad examples of my behavior to hopefully provide insight as to how it works. I’ve slowed down on doing this as it’s become easier to keep a more informal notion of “friend” in my head, but if I actually like you and wish we were cool or want to invite you to the next party even if we haven’t spoken in a few years, it’s a whole thing.
A simpler version of stating this is, I have an easier time trusting assholes. Feelers and empthas are raw meat in a sea of sharks. Assholes don’t let their resentments linger and sneak up on you. “Assholes” is also a misnomer as it basically just delineates people who are prepared and confident in their boundaries.
I see, literally every day, how viciously weaponized people’s feelings are. Whether it’s against me, against themselves, or against just basic sense and decency, well in spite of our best selves. I don’t want to practice that, enable that, or act blind to it in some bid to be “more normal” in my well-wishing or cordiality.
I’ve managed to bite myself in deliberately ignoring the feedback from the faces and body language and gossip of so-called “friends” I wanted in the past. I’m too familiar with psychologically abusive patterns relayed to me in dozens of versions of the same story. I get consistent positive feedback on the impact I have on people’s lives, and “You help more than you know!” as though I’m not actively telling you/the void how much I do know and don’t take it as a default good thing about me more than a statement about you.
When you can inspire, intrigue, or demonstrate your understanding of me, I get out of that mode. I think my dad gets me in a way Tammi never has or will. I look up to people who are, not just “smart” or “articulate,” but humble and comprehensive in their analysis. They’re showing me a way to work or speak that I haven’t found that is useful and perhaps marketable or scalable. Otherwise, it’s anyone’s guess which mood I might confidently assert in your direction. You may think absolutely nothing of that and consider it an awkward vague wanna-be threat of “something.” It’s my obsession. I’m wholly subsumed by the idea that I am either working you or working with you. Outside of that, it’s simply to avoid altogether.
Clear goals for our dynamic helps me too. Informal chatting? Sure, I can lay off. Did I invest hundreds of hours and thousands of dollars attempting to enable you? Well, fuck. Guess I can never really get that alignment of goals locked in. It’s an extension of the sensibility I use with regard to myself. When the goal is work, I work until I can’t anymore. When it’s indulge, I spend as much on shows, flying, parking, 2-item minimums, and gas as I ever have per year on home projects or car repairs. When I decide I want peace of mind, I’ll retreat indefinitely until the urge to nonsense fight resurfaces.
I don’t want to jinx my flow. I’ve been really feeling it the last week or so. I’m getting my house in order. Very annoying projects are registering as doable. I’m practicing music. I’m looking forward to maybe making my own. My notes aren’t feeling like they’re taking hours when, at their worst, it might take 2. I’m still beasting through shows, performances and TV. I’m rooted in an enjoyable now and looking forward to, perhaps an outwardly dismal future with regard to politics and the weather, but I think I can carve out an ironically decadent place.
Shuffle.
Bert Kreischer has been on the rise for a minute now, and is bringing along a band of like-minded comedians he admires. He said recently how he knows there are people who are way more brilliant and better stand-ups than him, but he puts in the work and utilizes the business minds/advice of people like Tom Segura and Joe Rogan. There is, of course, a model you can follow. There are posting guidelines and cross pollination strategies. While seemingly "anyone" (with money) can "go viral" (game the system) and the barriers to entry are lower, there are still structures akin to what might be understood as major labels of the past if they're nonetheless more diffuse and abstract than a particular studio, king-maker, or locale. Crazies like RFK Jr. know the series of podcasts to hit to make it onto Sam Harris' lips questioning the wisdom of allowing him to do so. Propogandist "news" is still working as intended.
I still fundamentally believe in work. I do think it's the thing that tends to win regardless. Whether it looks like what others consider work is where it gets complicated. It's work to keep Hussain sane enough to deal with the functionally impossible barriers to opening our own practice. It's work to maintain my own patience and positive orientation indulging in building fun memories verses stoking anger and resentment towards "the system" designed to ignore and kill us. It's work to continuously humble ideals while maintaining them anyway. It's work to stay skeptical and creative and preach better behavior than the environment is begging from you. This is work. This is also self-care. This is evidence I wish to keep on keeping on without just emptily saying that and pretending we both know what I mean.
I think I'm going to invite a headache related to tearing down the shed into my day. When that gets to be too much, I'll come in and shower, see if Hussain is free, when he's inevitably enmeshed in his chaos, I'll see about either seeing IMAX Oppenheimer, hitting The Comedy Attic, and certainly grabbing food. I have a few errands to run I suspect will wait until Sunday. If you catch this early, you're welcome to join, but I know it's pretty silly of me to continue inviting. Didn't you just see what I said about practicing the ideal in spite of the environment? Pay attention.
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