i can’t help it when i have to say the things i have to say. i tell the people i “know” what i think. i am like a child just thinking and saying my thoughts, not some group think experiment. what i “know”. what i understand. nothing. i don’t see it set in stone, only behind my eyes. i see it like that and have to say. probably post-modernly… as in experience is god or vise versa.
now, if you like euphemisms you might not understand, might feel it harsh, might think it sharp, or argumentative. like say the media. might feel like those words might be interpreted as such! i ask you to interpret them as what they are: naked with no history. maybe we can’t do that tho; language and history, inseparable. but then again, that might just be you, and you are great, until i say, or you think i say and you appreciate what i say, or not.
some time we should talk and i’ll tell you about it. i will use words that don’t have history. or i will make them clean. i will say privilege or pride or affirmative or et al., with no affiliation, and mean them as they are defined by Webster. if you can imagine, not entirely loaded. sometimes i can’t help what i have to say. i would cite freedom of speech, but that same concept died a long time ago, got killed by sentimentality. that left with the toughest, hardest, most genuine americans, who used language, they died in history books with misinformed words by aloof authors and so on.
there is nothing better than stewing in what you should have said when you said it. the momentous pause of oh fuck. telling someone that embarrassing story. that anecdote will jeopardize more than a laugh. what you thought of something from your objective subjective direct. the interstitial between words. the fear between moments. will we speak again? i don’t know, i hope. truth is tough. i am not sure, but i just spoke. perhaps you think i am inadvertently being a dick. perhaps get a dictionary.