March 30th, 2008

spring

Sometimes I Am A Bad Person

Maybe you have one of these too. A person who's not really a friend, but is somehow associated with a group of people you know. Some people like them, but many are convinced that Person X is CRAZY BATSHIT INSANE. Perhaps you've gone to some trouble to disassociate yourself from them, because they erected that cobra head of insanity and aimed it in your direction until you scrambled out of the way. And now you mainly rely on the anecdotes other people tell about their own encounters with the cobra head to confirm your opinion.

For many of us, that would be it. But if you're a writer, you get a little fascinated by them, in that peering under a rock to see how merrily the pillbugs' legs doth wiggle sort of way. And people keep telling you stories about them, full of perfect, shining details, and you know they would make the Best. Character. Evah. And yet, you cannot use those stories without running a grave and serious risk, and isn't there just a little element of meanness, of self-congratulatory "I may be broken, as all humans are, but at least I'm not insane to the point where it governs my life" high-horsedness in such a desire? Surely it would be better to just move on and leave that rock alone.

But seriously. Seriously. There's some mighty fine wiggling going on under there.
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