Mouse’s semi-absence has created a mixture of emotions as notable events often do, I suppose.
The first impression was a sense of quiet, a stillness that feels quite welcome. I feel like their absence lets my eyes focus on the exit sign. I am pondering the fact that these pages and pages of utter crap would never have ever seen the light of day if it were not for Mouse’s encouragement. . . And I guess maybe that is the end game. . . give me enough rope to watch me hang myself on it.
The music I am listening to tonight gives me pause to question the malfeasance. There is something kind about it. (And something practical).
Then, when they show up again momentarily, I feel so shy suddenly. Like it feels so intimate to reveal these things, or even just things that I have experienced today. It feels vulnerable in a way that is quite unexpected. But that is the honest reality of these spaces. They are borne out of an unholy kind of encouragement, perhaps.
Manufactured intimacy?
