/o\

So, talking to Coworker A again today, and I really am feeling the Bengali Tea-Boy story. It bothers me, watching people do the stupid shit I'm still trying to get better at. It bothers me listening to someone be ill-informed on abrasive issues and then not admit that their logic or data are faulty. Some people are sort of dispassionately annoying because they do things we don't do aand don't understand. But some people live under our skins and pull our thoughts back around to them and irritate us to madness because we recognize ourselves in them.

But in less personal-issues news, Coworker A - you'll get tired of not knowing who you are eventually, right? Reliance on convention is not the cure for your confusion. Kinky people are just as likely to be movie stars and bank executives as they are social outcasts with mohawks and obvious visual cues for subcultural leanings. Maybe David Carradine was murdered, but lack of defensive bruises says he did let someone put a rope around his heads; whether or not his death was accidental, he was still a kinkster.

for an acquaintance having a rough patch

old mister sun stop shining on my rainy days
'cause i'm blue, and hungry too
and i hate the happy thought of friendly rays
like you're glad that i'm so sad
and you're making light of my unhappy ways.

don't shine on me no more, i'm done with this town
'cause i'm down and out, moving out,
crick in my neck from always looking down
from up so high, so goodbye.
i'll catch a ride, run and hide, go underground.

Have a better day, dude.