Last night I talked on the phone for hours with E. He may or may not get evicted and when he does, his outstandingly f-ed up credit will most likely mean he can’t rent another place on his own. I think the word for what he was doing is “whining”…
Let me break for a second because this is what I think I’ll write about and then post; and I don’t think it’s right to get too deep on the internets about things you know about another in all intimacy. E. knows about le blog. I really like how it’s not a big fucking deal to him actually. He doesn’t read it avidly like the two of you + 1 not using the internet for addiction reasons right now… not that I can tell anyway. And when I pried as to why he wasn’t hanging on my every e-word, he basically said he looked at it and it was cool and he actually had hoped to see more about himself. So anyway, if it provokes a crisis for him, which I think is very unlikely, he asked for it. In the instance where I was all e-exposed, I guess that was a whole other story… because the person doing it was a lunatic…and me, a bastion of right-thinking in a misguided world! So this is all cool.
Anyway, he was whining and I was arguing with him about it like Sally Sunshine and he was trying to prove as usual that his life is miserable ruined and awful and we got to the “Sorry, I can’t do this, it’s too absurd” point and the conversation turned to depression in more general terms, and evolved at least a little to include me in its themes and how it includes me is that depression makes me angry… What I mean is, I get tough-love about it and if that doesn’t work then too bad sayonara basically. For my part this reaction probably has to do with my mom and also however long I spent teaching. There’s just not time enough in life to argue with foregone conclusions (eg. “My life is ruined.”) E. calls this “A little simplistic” and I’m sure that’s true, but it’s so great when you find something that you can be a little simplistic about and not get burnt by the complications… “I’m not getting dragged into someone else’s depression” is one of those.
Talking to E. did sort of show me how depression is a disease though, like others, but weirder. Not that he’s got it like late-stage cancer... just that he needs a good dose of chemo at Sloane Kettering.
And as usual, the most important thing is friends. Why don’t people talk about this more?
Love
Alexis
5 comments:
I can't sleep Alexis. I can't sleep.
Wow I totally couldn't sleep last night either.
You're on your way now I think... well we can't hang out til I've cleaned my house for at the least one hour, at the best, two. Who's a shitty friend now?
who's "E."? am i supposed to know this already?
No I'm protecting the identities of those around me but the internet has trouble in store for me anyway. I can feel it.
He's a person I force to talk to me more than he wants to because he made the mistake of hitting on me at work. :) It's like I'm cleaning up live game from a bunch of snapped traps. That's how I see getting that human touch in the modern urban world. :) :) :)
Post a Comment