I like to believe I am not judgemental.And I'm not.
Not actually.
Not in the sense that I consider myself blameless and others hopelessly flawed.
I am hopelessly flawed.
Hopelessly.
But I am not actually physically blind, and I do have thoughts, and I do form opinions, and sometimes I express them, sometimes publicly, and usually with less subtlety than most.
Believe me when I tell you, this tongue is a precision instrument in more ways than one.
But oral skills aside.
My thoughts, when turned into words, can be razor sharp, and my gut feeling is that if i don't release them from the cage of my locked jaw, I may actually end up slashing the inside of my own mouth.
This is a vastly dangerous proposition, and as much as I love you all, the thought of drowning in my own blood whilst attempting to tie down a tongue lashing armed with only my lips and aging teeth to assist me seems nigh impossible.
I love a bit of hanky spanky, but I am not a masochist.
If there are barbs to be unleashed, I would rather they kept away from my soft bits.
Rarely do my words vent far beyond my trusted inner sanctum anyway, and by now this select group have come to accept that once in a while I tell it like I see it.
They know it is never directed at them.
I do not keep morons within my inner sanctum, that's why they are in my inner sanctum.
And they know who they are.
But today I'm feeling lucky.
So let's talk.
Imagine a world where the only thing you knew for sure was that someone with a reputation as a totally flakey - albeit bright and charming - pants man became the love of your life. He came to your bed dragging a trail of broken promises on a string.Imagine then that he broke your heart by sleeping around........and you never saw it coming.
For fucks sake.
Imagine if when cornered, he placed blame squarely on the state of the modern world and it's inability to keep a mans private affairs private....then hurumphed himself out of the playpen, throwing toys and sticks over his shoulder at his playmates.
One might suggest this man might try to keep HIS privates INSIDE his pants, and he wouldn't have an issue.
Or perhaps the star struck woman who have 'pick me I'm desperate' stapled to their foreheads could just run it by any other woman on the planet, just to check.
But either way, if you sleep with a man who is a known cheat and he cheats on you, you deserve to drown in every tear you shed.
A bad workman blames his tools.
And a tool has no one to blame but himself.
Stupidity is one thing.
Lunacy is quite another.
I often describe people as being ' as mad as a cut snake'. I have never cut a snake, so I am not actually sure how mad they get, but I can bet it's pretty mad.
Thing is, for me, this is a term of endearment.
I love a bit of good old fashioned 'out there' with my coffee and a chat.
I would hope I am described in the same manner- although I suspect it may not always convey the same love for eccentricity that my label intends.
But 'nutbag' and 'being nuts' are not the same thing.
I once heard a discussion on radio in Australia about the word 'bastard'.
When Australian men greet each other, they might say " how are you, you ugly bastard?".
These are kinsmen. Being a bastard here is like being part of a secret club of brotherly man love.
If you were to gently chide that man for not bowling well at cricket, you might say "come on ya bastard" and it would mean' you can do it, we believe in you'.
But if someone is described as 'a bit of a bastard', they want him dead.
And 'being nuts' is not the same as being 'nutty', or a nutbag' or 'as mad as a cut snake', it's being insane.
And that's not fun for anybody.
Well, maybe a little at first, but then less so.
Once the novelty value has worn off, the crazy can be pretty wearing for those chaffing against it.
Paranoia is only fun until they really do all start talking about you.
Plus it never ends well.
Unlike being permanently deluded, which is more fun, because you always end up winning. Always.
I have long worked with creative people, I like them. Some of them are a bit deluded- which is not the same as being a bit of a bastard, although some do also fall into that category.
A week ago a man with precious little talent but mighty mighty powers of delusion was thrust into my path, as he is 3 or 4 times a year.
It is exhausting.
His self belief system is so enormous it has it's own climate.
Thankfully the only person who has ever remained close enough to him is his wife, and she is not without delusion herself.
Somehow they have managed to co-exist without actually spinning into one an others head space for many many years.
Personally I think it's because they each have their own gravitational pull that keeps them both rotating and functioning around each other and out into the wider world.
It is the ultimate symbiosis.
Were one to die, I should think the other would instantly disappear, not through grief- as they actually hate each other- but because the lack of 'ego force ' which would result in a delusion vacuum whereby they surviving partner would disappear up his or her own arse.
A quite literal black hole.
Ewwwwwwwwww
A hideous thought.
And one I shall leave you with.
Along with this chestnut.
Remember, life is like a box of chocolates.
If you press the caramel ones, the inside oozes onto the foil then you can't eat it without zapping your fillings and in three weeks time all that will be left of that box of countless delicious moments will be 2 sad and lonely orange creams leaking their guts into the butter compartment of the fridge.
W.
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