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in a web of glass, pinned to the edges of vision


I'd forgotten how often we saw Magritte

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mucha mosaic
Well that sucks.
After years of silence out of someone I used to consider a close friend, a mutual friend suggested I read his/her blog.
This silence began when this friend pretty much dove down my throat for daring to add information to an email from him/her requesting that we the recipients give our aid to a charitable organization. I pointed out that I was disqualified from doing so by the policies of said charitable organization, outlined what policies, and pointed out that at least one other person on the list was disqualified and might not know it. It wasn't as much an attempt to grandstand as it was to remind folks that there're limitations. I can't give blood, as a f'rinstance, because I'm a cocksucker who's lived in Britain for more than 3 months during the 6-7 years before mad cow disease hit the front page. If someone who's a cocksucker or a Brit is going to give blood, I think it's fair to let him or her know that they may have trouble with it before they get there.
I just read the most recent three entries of this was-friend's blog. One of these is a complaint that someone publically called him/her out on a breach of the social contract, and got cheered on by those around for this. This was (per his/her own admission) after less denigrating attempts to evoke conformity out of him/her.
The part that gets me is not that this person stood up for his/her rights; the part is that this person is stunned that the right to standing up for himself/herself does not create privilege out of that right.
More simply: sure, you have a right to wear an ugly hat on your head- I have a right to tell you that is one fucking ugly hat, and you do NOT have a right to not hear me saying that it's an ugly hat.
And here, I'd hoped some things had changed. Sigh.
Well, was-friend, I hope life is treating you well. However, I will continue to avoid you like the plague.
  • That's a pretty lame reason for them to be upset with you, IMNSHO.
    • *nod*

      So I followed directions of 'get out of my life go away'.
      Now granted- at the time this was all going on, said person was under a great deal of stress: I was willing to say 'okay, it was just that moment', and see where he/she chose to go from there. I just don't think it was just then, based on the blog entry, though.

      Part of what bugs me here, I guess, is I wonder how I was so blind as to this person's basic nature, too. It always bothers me when I'm filled with doubt about my ability to read people.
      • Re: *nod*

        Yeah, that always freaks me out. I think that's one of the things that has bugged me the most in my boss's transition from my friend to psycho hosebeast from hell. I never saw it coming. It's bizarre and unsettling.

        But then, I also try to remember that I have been on occasion startled by unexpected kindness and loyalty from folks I know. So there is hope.
        • Re: *nod*


          thank you for reminding me about the positive side here.
          • Re: *nod*

            I'd sing "It's a Small World", but then I'd be doing one of those evil "everything I say is a lie" things...That and everyone would probably kill me for getting it stuck in their heads.
  • *sigh*

    That really does suck... I mean until I had sex (I was a virgin for quite a while), I used to donate blood regularly because it was needed and there are serious blood shortages going on. It's important to give blood. But now, because of certain reasons (being a cocksucker myself and therefore disqualified), I am unable to help to that cause and I don't like someone throwing that in my face.

    I'd smack that person, too. Idiot.
    • Oh, I can totally understand forgetting it. The person in question is in a very low-risk group for HIV infection. You and me think about this every day; this person? Maybe not. What bothered me there was that pointing it out deserved coming down on me like the wrath of god for daring to say something. It's not my loss that this person's not in my life; it's his/hers.
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