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I hid my camera
from your eyes,
from your stare
from the glare you gave me
when I took the shot,
from the way you made me
hesitate, I’m not sure now
how it is you made me feel
as if this public space
were no longer mine,
but only yours,
and yours alone.
I took the shot,
and walked away
but your eyes, your eyes,
your piercing angry eyes,
they still settle down
into my bones.
“Anger,” said Spider Robinson, in the email signature of a teacher I was on a listserv with for ten years or something, “is always, always fear in disguise.”
And that just makes me so angry, that Spider, whoever he is, can see how
scared I am.
All alone over here
Remembering ten year old email signatures
(Not even the emails or the senders but the signatures – who remembers that stuff?)
While so many other things are happening for so many other people.
And so much good stuff getting done
and said
and spread around.
Someone else wrote a book about worrying about everyone hanging out without them.
Fear of missing out, they call it.
And that’s what junior high
And most of my twenties felt like.
It made me so mad.
(And I know it’s Mindy Kaling, but do I really want to be the guy who can quote book titles and email signatures but never read the actual work –
Just nothing of literary content whatsoever?)
Ze said he’s scared, too,
But he said it in such a way that I send it to friends and it hung on a wall in a frame in my office once.
So maybe there was more going on there.
(Of course, there’s a text I can remember – my listing literary memory is a vlogger, and what’s a vlogger anyway? Those letters aren’t supposed to go together like that.
But they do
and someone else thought it up.)
And what does he have to be scared about either?
All those folks figured out ways to say things that mattered and were important and other people remembered.
I hid my camera
from your eyes,
from your stare
from the glare you gave me
when I took the shot,
from the way you made me
hesitate, I’m not sure now
how it is you made me feel
as if this public space
were no longer mine,
but only yours,
and yours alone.
I took the shot,
and walked away
but your eyes, your eyes,
your piercing angry eyes,
they still settle down
into my bones.
-Kevin
Yeah. It’s a Thing.
“Anger,” said Spider Robinson, in the email signature of a teacher I was on a listserv with for ten years or something, “is always, always fear in disguise.”
And that just makes me so angry, that Spider, whoever he is, can see how
scared I am.
All alone over here
Remembering ten year old email signatures
(Not even the emails or the senders but the signatures – who remembers that stuff?)
While so many other things are happening for so many other people.
And so much good stuff getting done
and said
and spread around.
Someone else wrote a book about worrying about everyone hanging out without them.
Fear of missing out, they call it.
And that’s what junior high
And most of my twenties felt like.
It made me so mad.
(And I know it’s Mindy Kaling, but do I really want to be the guy who can quote book titles and email signatures but never read the actual work –
Just nothing of literary content whatsoever?)
Ze said he’s scared, too,
But he said it in such a way that I send it to friends and it hung on a wall in a frame in my office once.
So maybe there was more going on there.
(Of course, there’s a text I can remember – my listing literary memory is a vlogger, and what’s a vlogger anyway? Those letters aren’t supposed to go together like that.
But they do
and someone else thought it up.)
And what does he have to be scared about either?
All those folks figured out ways to say things that mattered and were important and other people remembered.
Me? Well.
Yeah.
That really pisses me off.
— Bud Hunt
April 8, 2018
https://www.evernote.com/l/AAEF7lBFMf9ITKnqvniMdPVIhpTPyPnTSSk