I regard you warily

Last night I spoke at length with Mongoose. I played all my cards, which would be foolish if I believed in my delusions. I let her know I think she is a manipulator, a dangerous person to me and more trouble than she is worth. She responded with impeccable concern, a friendly invitation to visit, and inarguable logic in favor of same. I was forced to concede. I have wondered for many years and I continue to wonder whether she is oblivious to her own deceitfulness, or simply excellent at concealing it. I think she may suspect who she really is, but there is a disconnect. Twice she said things I knew first-hand to be lies, and each was startling, nestled as they were in the midst of kind, rational, appealing speeches. I will visit her, but with extreme caution. I will not allow myself to be manipulated by her. I will not heed her crocodile tears. I am prepared to be the bad guy. I will walk away, stone-hearted, despised by all, rather than allow myself to be drawn in to her show. Besides, I am confident that she can't throw any wrenches into the plans I currently have. The few people we have in common I have far more leverage over than she. Adair, James and Marie are all wise to her ways and will not be swayed. As for the family, they worship me. If she attempts to attack me by that avenue it will go poorly for her, and how I would enjoy it! Even her mother, the one who stands by her always, owes me a deep debt. So I will approach her and see what we are now.

In other news, James has held in his hand the thing that I desire most. It waits for me in Sparta. If I am satisfied by so small a quantity, I may have to rewrite my list. More likely it will retain its seat and I will seek more.This will be a long week of waiting. I hope Marie will help me pass the time: We will see.

A system cannot measure itself

In measuring itself, it is itself changed, and so can hope at best to approach asymptotically a definite conclusion. Of course, life is too chaotic to allow any living person to find their equilibrium, and so I am left to wonder: Is it me, or is it the pill? The answer, of course, is that the question itself is null. It is what it is, to paraphrase a friend, and that must be enough.

In the face of a stony silence from Adair the cause of which I am too emotionally unintelligent to know with certainty I felt an unusual tranquility. I told myself that this was deliberate, an attempt to not be the third of three people simmering in their own irritation, to alter the situation by exerting calmness onto it by letting the atmosphere run off of me like water. Like water, I thought, where before life would sling mud at me, and coated in ever more mud I wallowed and wailed my way through life, slogging with a massive effort through a swamp carried on my back, leaving a trail of misery and stinking of despair. Water gets you wet, yes, but then you dry. I have learned something of what it means to live in the present and look to the future. To a depressed person it does not matter when good things happen, because it is only a matter of time before good turns to bad. Now it does not matter when bad things happen, because it is only a matter of time before the present becomes the past, and the future is always there to greet me with a chance to try again.

I am too fearful to hope that this will stay. To my future self: Let life run off of you like water. Let the wind and sun dry you. Don't wallow in the dust, or the earth will bear you down.