Earlier today I grumped about crazy stalkers, because I got an email from one. See, late last year a dude called me and asked if I had represented him and said I was posting tweets about him. I told him I had no idea what he was talking about. I said the same when he emailed me. Today, he emails me and a dozen other people ranting about an internship he had a year ago. Fuck, I thought. Why do I attract these people? I told him to stop goddam emailing me.
/1
/2 So a little while ago his father emails the same string, miserable, contrite. Apologizing for his bright, curious, son who sunk into depression psychosis after a death in the family and a bad experience. Talking about going to his apartment and clean it out and finding the ruins of a manic life interspersed with volumes of Spinoza and physics. Asking for mercy.
/3 I’m known for quite a while that fighting mental illness doesn’t make me more sympathetic, more compassionate, to others fighting it — at least not at a gut level, at least not where I live unguarded. If anything I think it makes me less patient, more mad. Why can’t you be fucking normal for a minute, I want to demand, nominally at them.
/4 So I guess I accept that I’m that way, that mental illness in others can be a trigger for me, and try harder. What else is there to do?
@Popehat
You can invite a cat or three into your lap and do penance by rubbing their belly.
That will even the scales.
@mjausson Oh COME ONE. You know the rules.
If they show you the belly and the underside of their paws/feet (with or without claws out), then touching the belly leads to immediate injury.
If they show you the belly and the paws bent so that you see the top of their paws/feet, then they want you to scratch their belly and NOT immediately starting to rub their belly leads to injury...
I mean... it's so simple... 😹
