Mashup #01
Read at your own risk.
I sometimes wish I had insomnia. I might get more done. Eh, I would probably just open the fridge more often and stare at the yogurt I should’ve tossed last month. Do you think lonely people feel more lonely after reading an article about loneliness? I don’t understand. Being alone is freedom, especially when you’re socially inept, though maybe I’m not. Perhaps voices outside my head just make me want to scream. Anyway, you have to have something to offer, or nobody will talk to you. Do you own a pickup? Can you reach high shelves or make a decent cup of coffee? Do you keep an extra umbrella handy? Are you funny? Entertain me. Go ahead, make me see things your way, and after I’ve thumbed my nose, walked away, and forgotten today, maybe we can reconvene at a later date, past my expiration, and then we can compare notes and see who did better and whose lies were more virtuous. Where do we draw the line between fibbing and malicious? Intent? Prove it. What about all the lies that weren’t lies when you first said them, like—I love you—or, I will quit drinking . . . You see. It’s all a balancing act, a mashup of facts and bullshit, a persona I can’t seem to tweak, much less develop. A fact relies on the stories we share and agree on, without which we have nothing. Truth is ephemeral: I read that somewhere while trying to make myself seen. To get noticed and grow a publication is difficult when you succumb to your ego, judge others, and fear every word you type, which is why it’s so infuriating when I finish reading a newsletter and say, “I want to do that. I want to write like that.”