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


I'd forgotten how often we saw Magritte

mucha mosaic


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mucha mosaic
So why am I laughing?

I'm laughing because people are going completely off their nut complaining about stuff that isn't even what I said, and are wondering why I would find this sardonically amusing.

I'm laughing because apparently, even saying 'But that isn't what I said, dear: I said something else entirely' is too confusing and bewildering and I'm bad and need screaming at.

I'm laughing because there's this huge weight of import being placed on things that, in two years, won't matter at all. This theory is born of noting the non-importance that similar things which happened two years ago have now.

I'm laughing because apparently, not being interested in playing these games makes me a dramaqueen.

Do feel free to comment on this if you like: I would reference you to the second entry in this livejournal before you comment, however.
  • Meep?

    I said sorry...
    • Oh you're golden. :)

      This was written pre-apology-exchange, hon. You're golden, I promise. And believe me, you weren't even a runner up in this weekend's 'NO NO NO I AM IMPORTANT AND NOTHING AROUND ME IS!' contest -- and it's only Saturday!
      Someday, I will sit down and make a 'things that annoy me' list, and then watch in awe as, contemplating them all so closely in unison, every vein artery and capillary in my body BURSTS THROUGH MY SKIN and throttles me.
      And as said at the outset: everything that is written here is, of course, fictive. I may not have been laughing at the perpetrator. There may not have been a perpetrator. there may have been several perpetrators and I was laughing at all of them. I may have been laughing at the wallpaper being hung upside down in the lobby of my apartment building by the very stupid man.
      Indeed, I may not even be typing, right now...
  • I'm laughing because there's this huge weight of import being placed on things that, in two years, won't matter at all.

    Oh, way too true. I found some ancient posts of mine on Usenet in which I was flaying alive some net.troll. I remembered when I read it that I cared oh-so-deeply about the stupid cow. With several years of distance between then and rediscovering the post, I found that I barely remembered HER, let alone the specific post.

    Immediacy heightens emotions, but one must use perspective when writing about them, neh?
    • I stumbled across some old logs (from about 6 years ago) and that prompted my own realization that it stops mattering after a little while.
      There it was, in plain black and white. I was discussing in frantic detail WHERE to hide the body, and now...
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