Friday, November 10, 2006


I was upset to find that I seemed not to be actually reading Mobius Flip anymore when I checked in on it. I asked myself what it could mean.

Mr. Flip had been a good and patient friend when I started out here at Sea. Asking what it might mean was all right, I guess, but then I left a comment. And that's where it got complicated.


from his blog:


Troll's comment on my last post:


I have noticed something recently that bothers me. I am finding your blog harder to read. When this happened somewhere else, I leapt to the probable conclusion that there was some inner conflict that was coming out in conflicted prose, but this is definitely my problem.

Maybe it's just that I've stopped chasing my tail and cut it off, so I no longer have any compassion for the circling obsessions of others, but I don't THINK that's it.

I am going to have to chew on this one.

In the meantime, hang in there.
And keep on plugging along


Comments on my blog are emailed to me. Being a self-obsessed blogger (that's redundant, right?) I often check my email from my web phone when away from my laptop for more than a few seconds. That is how I first read Troll's comment, and my reason for stating this is that I had to read it in little chunks as I scrolled then selected "more" and waited for the screen to refresh.

First two, scroll, read, scroll. Pause to refresh.

**Hmmm, I've often wondered if some people have problems with the black background. But it just seems so right - little bits of white and various color painted against the blackness. But it seems that many of my readers - wow, my readers - sounds like a veritable army - all six of them - are getting to that "challenging eyesight age" just like me. I'd hate for Troll to have to quit reading because of eye strain. My readership would plummet by 15% at least. But maybe I should go ahead and take the beta plunge. Hmmm, will have to look into that - maybe there is a dark, dreary background available with more readable print. But then there's the "beta comment" issue. I never really understood what that was about but if it's still a problem it would be one more thing to try to figure out.**


**Inner conflict. Inner conflict? Me? conflicted prose? Wait, is this a criticism of the writing? This isn't about blogger and fonts and backgrounds and colors at all. This is about me. But he says it's his problem. Yeah, it's not about my problem, it's about his problem. But then why is he saying this here? Oh yeah, because this is an open forum. The posts are about me. The comments are about them but they're kind of about me which makes them worth emailing to myself. But wait, this is Troll. He's pretty deep. Does he really mean this is about me, or is he just being sort of obtuse.

Is that the right word? Is that one of those words I'm sure I keep using incorrectly because it sounds right? Like "pilfer." Where my mother always uses it to mean shuffling through stuff like a stack of paper but it really means steal? Man, that was embarassing to find out. I always thought she was the perfect English user. Shit, I'm turning into her. When I'm not turning into my dad. Could it really be partly his fault that I'm queer? I mean talk about the definition of the weak father. Ooh, I'm not really having sex with guys and thinking it has something to do with him am I? But what about that dream that time. Oh God! Well, better incestuous than a pedophile. See, there's always someone who's worse than you are. But that's not right. God loves everyone. But how can God love someone who abuses helpless children and wrecks their whole lives? Could that be my problem?

What did happen that one night I had to spend in the hotel room with my grandparents on my father's side? I remember being terrified of my grandfather. He had that "arthritis" thing that delivered an electric shock. I do vividly remember being terrified of that. And I remember seeing his penis, or at least some part of his genitals through that gap in his pajama bottom. Oh for God's sake, next I'll be having some sort of sexual abuse memory. Like it makes any difference whatsoever. I'm queer. It doesn't matter why. Abuse. Weak father. dominating mother. Not enough / too many testosterone hormone baths in the womb. What matters is what I do about it. Which is basically nothing except spin, spin, spin. Oh, the email.**


**Stopped chasing my tail? Cut it off? Compassion? Circling obsessions? He doesn't THINK so? What the fuck? Now I'm pissed. Well, not really. I mean it sounds a little...well a lot...condescending. Like he finally took the plunge. Walked across the coals. While I'm still huddled over here quaking in my boots. But what about Nate and Jas? They're over here. I dunno, Nate is standing by the coals....he's looking at them. Wow, maybe the only answer is to off myself. I mean, Jas always keeps that option open. But wait a minute, I thought you decided that would be the most selfish thing you could do. That's what you say to others. And c'mon, you couldn't even bring yourself to do it when you had decided it was a real option. Yes the water looked really cold. It was. That's the point, assclown. What a pathetic loser. Wait, what about the truce. Hmmm, that's not working so well anyway. I think it may just be another excuse for hooking up.

Oh yeah, Troll. What is he saying? Why did he say this? Is it something I should care about? No. This is my blog. I blog for myself. Oh for God's sake, is that why you check your stat counter? C'mon, get real. Well, I really blog in case there is another suffering alcoholic out there. How could he say I'm chasing my tail? Oh yeah, I am. Obsessive writing about the same topic, over and over and over and over. As if an answer will materialize from the writing. Doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result. Insanity. Only a power greater than myself could restore us to sanity. Hmmm, power greater than myself. Skipped that meeting today. Busy trying to hook up with that guy. Working with working on helping them explore their gay side behind their wives's backs. I don't think that's what it means.

So maybe I should quit blogging until I have something new to say? No, I can't do that because my friends will just comment that they don't want me to leave and it will seem like yet another desperate invitation to make me feel worthwhile as a blogger. I have to try to be a little more subtle than that. And maybe Troll should just quit reading if he is finding it difficult to read. Maybe once you walk over the coals you just check back every once in a while to see how the little group of fraidy cats is doing on the other side. To remind yourself how miserable you were while you tried to convince yourself things could be different.

Is it really futile? Or do I just feel that way because I haven't eaten enough today and because I thought we were going to land that account but the guy explained very patiently why we came so close, but lost anyway. I don't really give a shit about that. I hate my job. Or do I? Why does it matter so much to me then? Why is that feeling back in the pit of my stomach. Who kicked me? Oh yeah, nobody. Nobody.**


Yikes. So I posted a "comment" that went like this:

Dear Mr. Flip,

Let me say a few things, right off the bat:

1. Oops.
2. I'm sorry.
3. I wish I could say I won't do it again.

Now, here is why I say it's MY problem: I have been thinking a lot about who I was when I started blogging and who I am now. While essentially similar, and almost identical to other eyes, naked or otherwise, I have made some decisions that have moved me from one world to another. Mighty Whiplash to the Mighty Faggot, Inner Conflict for the Inner Girl, etc.

I now reflect on some of the comments I found so offensive when I first started blogging and find that they make sense as things to say -- though they seemed presumptuous and hostile at the time, and might still if directed at ME. You know who I mean: the "get over it, honey, come out" school. I believe I have even blogged about the night that thought first crossed my own mind in regard to someone else. Not a Pretty Moment, I can tell you.

The last time I had trouble reading a blog I had been enjoying for almost a year, it turned out that the prose DID reflect something internal. This time I definitely felt that nothing "onboard" had changed, but that I no longer connected the way I used to, hence the comment that it was MY problem: it was Another Not Too Pretty Moment.

Most of the trouble I get into is in comparing other people's experience to mine without really knowing what their experience is [even nine months of reading random thoughts is not really such a great guide, and you know how well I have understood some things [ie, NOT] from the beginning].

I absolutely meant the comment about chasing my tail and then having to cut if off as a description of my own behavior over the last nine months. I did not intend to imply that everyone else's blogs had a similar circling pattern, but, GOSH, there it is in black and white -- or, as on my own blog, in living color on black. Oops.

This would be the place to try to apologize from the heart, which I could do: I have spent my life having to do it. Over and over again.

But I enjoyed your cell phone post so much I decided thatI wasn't 100% sorry any more. I laughed out loud, and you know how I feel about that [or you would if you read me as often as I have read you, so there.] I LOVE laughing out loud.

Well, this is now long enough for a post, so I will go post it.

I am in fact still chewing on the thoughts that gave rise to my comments, and many other things. That is where "chasing my tail" comes in. So it appears I grew a new one... or never really cut the other one off.

Go figure. Go be funny. Please, go be funny. You know the negative stuff really is "all about me". Why should it be about you?

yr friend still, I hope,
the Troll

1 comment:

  1. I didn't read anything as being offensive...though, I do think you make interesting comments that seem "to cut to the chase" and be a little direct? BUT don't hold back. It's understood that you mean no harm I think. We're all friends here and written words are often misunderstood.
    If you look back in the posts, I say something similiar about Flip's posts seem a little cryptic at times (or something to that effect.) Was he maybe upset? I think so(?) In the end, we only mean to help right? (Even if it appears to be tough love.) These words, they poorly reflect our true meaning...and we all know that.