what do you learn about monsters from turning monsters to corpses? - m4m (santa rosa)

You: doing whatever, or whatever.
Me: whatever.

I seemed to know a lot of people, but not have many close friends. Maybe it had something to do with how often I found myself at the office, or how I preferred to keep some distance between my work and my home lives. I don't really know. I had a hard time gauging whether someone was a real friend, or was just manipulating me. Its embarrassing to admit that I carried so much weird self-esteem shit from my childhood that far into my adult life, but hey -- what are you gonna do?

When we first connected it was in the context of your art. You'd created this fascinating thing that I didn't *quite* understand, but somehow couldn't turn away from. You see, I'm a sucker for a story with an identifiable protagonist, and to my shock and horror, you had somehow given me the opportunity to step into that role when it suited me, or when the opportunity allowed.

But which me should I be? The one I kept at home or the one I took to the office? The one I drug our for family holidays, or the one I used when meeting strangers? I ultimately chose to fashion myself a new persona, just for use in this story; it was composed probably 85% of who I actually was, about 5% who i would have liked to have been, and then about 10% bullshit. I gave it a name, pulled on the mask and headed off on an adventure I'll never forget.

. . .and that is the story about how I ended up LARPing a less apologetic, more confident version of myself on the internet, while fighting evils more ancient and vast than the human mind can comprehend. At one point you reached out to me to let me know that I had gotten slightly off-track and was talking shit to a potentially dangerous person who was not in fact, one of the safe pretend people I *thought* was talking shit to...

. . .and that lead to a conversation here and there on chat, and those lead to more chats and then all of a sudden I realized that you weren't just talking back to me because I was talking to you, but that you thought I was someone worth talking to in the first place. I was floored. This person I respected and admired so much thought *I* was smart and talented and had potential. Went out of their way to encourage *me* to follow through with my ideas and to (mostly) trust my instincts. You introduced me to so many amazing and talented people, talked me through so many abstract concepts, helped me cheat my way through my wife's online statistics class...

You rarely chastized me for telling people to go fuck themselves (and when you did, you were right), and often reminded me when I'd forgotten to.

"All art movements start with a small group of friends" You are so fucking right, it's ridiculous. I've been mulling over your words for a while now, and I think they've helped me understand what I want a little more clearly now as a result:

I used to think that what I wanted to be like was a Brian Clark; but now I think what I want more than anything, is to be like a Brian Clark to someone else.


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