Still A Little Salty
In my continuing effort toward achieving sweetness, I find myself performing an exorcism, of sorts. Either I purge myself of the continual smart-ass rhetoric playing in my head, or keep it to myself.
My very favorite quote, for example, was Fran Liebowitz on the David Brenner show with my then current hearththrob, professional wrestler-turned-governor Jesse "the Body" Ventura.
That was while he was still a wrestler, by the way. I am a gifted seer of potential.
In a conversation about clothing (spurred by Jesse's over-the-knee-boots he swore were made of dog skin), Fran quipped about the current trend of cute little sayings written on clothes. "If I don't want to talk to you, what makes you think I want to read your clothes?"
The fact that an erudite New York journalist verbalized my nagging recurring thought on the Venice boardwalk, felt like the discovery that another of my species exists. And, Jesse's raucous laughter confirmed that the voices in my head engaged in witty repartee. But, with those witty voices in my head, do I have the capacity to become sweet?
I have been called "sweet," most recently by the owner of a venture capital firm in San Francisco. "Sweet?" I thought. Do I appear sweet when asking questions about a film company's acceptable internal rate of return? Is it my coquettish delivery, head acock and wide eyed with anticipation of a big check? Periodically, I have these seemingly out of body experiences, and always recoil in horror. Do you any ANY idea what I'm thinking? (Rhetorical quesion, of course, since, if he did, he would never ever ever call me sweet, unless it was some creepy cannibal reference.)
It is, then, not the appearance of sweetness I seek, but the reality - with internal voices aligned.
I long to be a people worshipper, like Lord Buckley gently persuaded in Religion (August 27 post), with his graceful acknowledgement of other beliefs, honest admission of his absence of faith, and examples of the beauty in his love of people.
And, to get it, I'm afraid there'll be need for countless trials and executions of inhabitants of my head.
Sadly, this Sunday, I find myself pro capital punishment.
My very favorite quote, for example, was Fran Liebowitz on the David Brenner show with my then current hearththrob, professional wrestler-turned-governor Jesse "the Body" Ventura.
That was while he was still a wrestler, by the way. I am a gifted seer of potential.
In a conversation about clothing (spurred by Jesse's over-the-knee-boots he swore were made of dog skin), Fran quipped about the current trend of cute little sayings written on clothes. "If I don't want to talk to you, what makes you think I want to read your clothes?"
The fact that an erudite New York journalist verbalized my nagging recurring thought on the Venice boardwalk, felt like the discovery that another of my species exists. And, Jesse's raucous laughter confirmed that the voices in my head engaged in witty repartee. But, with those witty voices in my head, do I have the capacity to become sweet?
I have been called "sweet," most recently by the owner of a venture capital firm in San Francisco. "Sweet?" I thought. Do I appear sweet when asking questions about a film company's acceptable internal rate of return? Is it my coquettish delivery, head acock and wide eyed with anticipation of a big check? Periodically, I have these seemingly out of body experiences, and always recoil in horror. Do you any ANY idea what I'm thinking? (Rhetorical quesion, of course, since, if he did, he would never ever ever call me sweet, unless it was some creepy cannibal reference.)
It is, then, not the appearance of sweetness I seek, but the reality - with internal voices aligned.
I long to be a people worshipper, like Lord Buckley gently persuaded in Religion (August 27 post), with his graceful acknowledgement of other beliefs, honest admission of his absence of faith, and examples of the beauty in his love of people.
And, to get it, I'm afraid there'll be need for countless trials and executions of inhabitants of my head.
Sadly, this Sunday, I find myself pro capital punishment.
posted by Kitty O'Keefe at 7:20 AM
1 Comments:
The reference to Buckley's "honest absence of faith" nudges me to say how annoyed I get when people shove their presence of faith in my face. Why are they so proud of their beliefs? Belief is easy, knowledge is hard. I think the faithless (a condition I apsire to) are far too easy on the faithful. If they don't start keeping it to themselves, Ima gonna take a hostage.
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