I’m sure it’s primarily because I’m a lesbian, but when you speak about the invisibility of being aged, and reference it to the gaze of men, you leave me rendered utterly invisible because I don’t give a good goddamn about the gaze of men. I miss being visible to WOMEN, beautiful clever enchanting women.
my initial reaction was that there’s nothing pleasant @ being devalued—but i suppose there is the relief along with the shock of clarity. (love richard’s bullet metaphor) and then, if you sit with it long enough, you can appreciate the irony and yes, laugh.
"getting to know the wildly unfamiliar landscape of each other" can be a joy. I'm thankful for mine during her birthday week.
Re delayed recognition of insult: I've thought, It's not an insult unless both sides recognize it as such. I've also been told I'm wrong about that.
Re Shulman, you drew the lesson, "I had learned to listen." In my case, I'm reminded daily I should listen.
And this might definitely loosen up writing: "with everything you write. Turn it all into dialogue, or a monologue." I vote for dialogue. Or the monologue must be riveting.
I love your delayed recognition of being shot, and then how it registers. I have often missed the moment the gun went off and only notice I’m bleeding later on. Is that because we want to believe the best of people? Or maybe we are so wrapped in the moment we fail to anticipate the sting that’s been delivered? I continue to ponder these things.
Ah, yes: "insult you don’t immediately experience as insult." Somewhat skin to being damned with faint praise. There's something in the experience which triggers just enough dopamine to light you up AND just enough endorphin to neutralize the sting... One of my fascinations: the power of the word "but" as a hinge between two independent clauses -- we tend to focus on the importance of what precedes the "but," just because it comes first... but (← haha) what FOLLOWS the "but" (however politely phrased or prettily wrapped) completely overturns the premise of the first clause. "You wrote that so artfully. I genuinely love the way you [fill in the blank]! But, you know, I wonder if [fill in another blank)... Maybe? Yes?"
I've been hearing-impaired my whole life; in writing workshops, though, my hearing dropped by about 50% when I encountered a "but" clause. Probably one of the reasons I've never actually published much...
In college, a professor I adored once listened patiently to all my claims to be secretly an evil person who chuckled cynically at the state of the world and all the people in it. "If they only knew me," I said, "they'd be appalled!" She eyed me for a couple of beats and then said, "John, listen: you are a very nice boy -- and all those words are carefully chosen." Well, like I said, I adored her, and so I latched onto the "very nice" bit, and never forgot the conversation. Only years later did the "boy" part land. It wasn't really an insult, but it -- especially with what preceded it -- but it also lent an undeniable counterweight to what precede it. Does that make sense?
<<NOTE TO READERS: If in the comments you write the equivalent of a CARE emoji or an ANGER emoji, I will never forgive you. Those responses insult this chunk as a piece of thought. That’s what it wants to be. It does not want to be a bid for commiseration. In this moment, my feelings are not hurt. I’m writing about the phenomenon of hurt feelings and what they stir. If my feelings were hurt, this would be complete dreck. >>
I'm tempted to respond with a heart but instead will just report that this made me laugh out loud and reflect how much I love the way you instruct your readers how you would like them to respond -- or more to the point, how you would NOT like them to respond. You are a model of good boundaries.
If only I had some boundaries in real life. Partly, it is the poverty of these that stirs up things for me to reflect on. By the way, I welcome loves and likes and any other tender support, just not being characterized as “sharing” my experiences as if there were anything intrinsically interesting about them.
right -- there are practical advantages to "likes"...but if I read you correctly, a mere emoji is lazy and insufficient. which is why I didn't tease you with a squiggle masquerading as a thoughtful comment. :-)
Yes, here, you are right, comments are wonderful and open up interesting dialogues . . . on Facebook and on Notes the emojis are welcome, and all of this pumps the algorithm, which in turn can lead to more subscribers. I like emojis as a form, not some of the symbolic meanings of emojis. xxL
So many fabulous lines and insights that I am too lazy to quote. Thank you
I always wish I had said what you say I said as succinctly as you said I said it.
I think you did!
If she improves it, I'd say you have no complaint.
I completely support "lazy." xxL
I’m sure it’s primarily because I’m a lesbian, but when you speak about the invisibility of being aged, and reference it to the gaze of men, you leave me rendered utterly invisible because I don’t give a good goddamn about the gaze of men. I miss being visible to WOMEN, beautiful clever enchanting women.
my initial reaction was that there’s nothing pleasant @ being devalued—but i suppose there is the relief along with the shock of clarity. (love richard’s bullet metaphor) and then, if you sit with it long enough, you can appreciate the irony and yes, laugh.
“When you are learning to speak like no one else, you learn to do that from all the other people who sound exactly like themselves.” Love this.
"getting to know the wildly unfamiliar landscape of each other" can be a joy. I'm thankful for mine during her birthday week.
Re delayed recognition of insult: I've thought, It's not an insult unless both sides recognize it as such. I've also been told I'm wrong about that.
Re Shulman, you drew the lesson, "I had learned to listen." In my case, I'm reminded daily I should listen.
And this might definitely loosen up writing: "with everything you write. Turn it all into dialogue, or a monologue." I vote for dialogue. Or the monologue must be riveting.
I love your delayed recognition of being shot, and then how it registers. I have often missed the moment the gun went off and only notice I’m bleeding later on. Is that because we want to believe the best of people? Or maybe we are so wrapped in the moment we fail to anticipate the sting that’s been delivered? I continue to ponder these things.
Ah, yes: "insult you don’t immediately experience as insult." Somewhat skin to being damned with faint praise. There's something in the experience which triggers just enough dopamine to light you up AND just enough endorphin to neutralize the sting... One of my fascinations: the power of the word "but" as a hinge between two independent clauses -- we tend to focus on the importance of what precedes the "but," just because it comes first... but (← haha) what FOLLOWS the "but" (however politely phrased or prettily wrapped) completely overturns the premise of the first clause. "You wrote that so artfully. I genuinely love the way you [fill in the blank]! But, you know, I wonder if [fill in another blank)... Maybe? Yes?"
I've been hearing-impaired my whole life; in writing workshops, though, my hearing dropped by about 50% when I encountered a "but" clause. Probably one of the reasons I've never actually published much...
In college, a professor I adored once listened patiently to all my claims to be secretly an evil person who chuckled cynically at the state of the world and all the people in it. "If they only knew me," I said, "they'd be appalled!" She eyed me for a couple of beats and then said, "John, listen: you are a very nice boy -- and all those words are carefully chosen." Well, like I said, I adored her, and so I latched onto the "very nice" bit, and never forgot the conversation. Only years later did the "boy" part land. It wasn't really an insult, but it -- especially with what preceded it -- but it also lent an undeniable counterweight to what precede it. Does that make sense?
<<NOTE TO READERS: If in the comments you write the equivalent of a CARE emoji or an ANGER emoji, I will never forgive you. Those responses insult this chunk as a piece of thought. That’s what it wants to be. It does not want to be a bid for commiseration. In this moment, my feelings are not hurt. I’m writing about the phenomenon of hurt feelings and what they stir. If my feelings were hurt, this would be complete dreck. >>
I'm tempted to respond with a heart but instead will just report that this made me laugh out loud and reflect how much I love the way you instruct your readers how you would like them to respond -- or more to the point, how you would NOT like them to respond. You are a model of good boundaries.
If only I had some boundaries in real life. Partly, it is the poverty of these that stirs up things for me to reflect on. By the way, I welcome loves and likes and any other tender support, just not being characterized as “sharing” my experiences as if there were anything intrinsically interesting about them.
You make them "intrinsically interesting."
right -- there are practical advantages to "likes"...but if I read you correctly, a mere emoji is lazy and insufficient. which is why I didn't tease you with a squiggle masquerading as a thoughtful comment. :-)
Yes, here, you are right, comments are wonderful and open up interesting dialogues . . . on Facebook and on Notes the emojis are welcome, and all of this pumps the algorithm, which in turn can lead to more subscribers. I like emojis as a form, not some of the symbolic meanings of emojis. xxL
Excellent. Interesting how this "showing off" in writing requires a life-time of diligence. XX
And the insults are always a wound to my vanity. xxL
Oh yeah, I know that only too well.