Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Letter 2
Bill,
I've thought up several letters to write but haven't done so. I remember feeling the cold as I walked into my apartment last night, that bitter, clear, heavy cold that you only feel when the temperature is in the single digits... the kind of cold that makes you think that this is the REAL cold whereas the other cold was just a dream... I remember feeling that and then feeling sad for people that are homeless, and how foolish I am to be so angry about my lot in life when I have never been homeless.
I got ridiculously angry at traffic last night on the drive home from work. I've become the Boston driver that I've always hated, though I'm not totally psycho and reckless. I rage at people who drive below the speed limit, I curse at them, I ride their tail... all because I will, at worst, arrive home or at work 5 minutes later than I would if the objects of my derision were not in front of me. And I can hear your voice in my head, chastising or dismissing me because my feelings are more dwellings on negativity than anything else... and I know they are neurotic, but they are my thoughts and feelings, they are the window through which I view things, and I am defensive of them.
Lionel
*******************
Leo,
You are right, old chum; I am chastising you, though I am not dismissive of your concerns. It can be chilling to feel powerful and irrational negative feelings like that, especially when one looks at the news every day and wonders if our society has not gone mad. But why dwell on it? Everyone feels these things, or some approximation of them. You are not alone or even unusual in feeling these things. That is why I tend to dismiss these things when you bring them up, because it is all part of the background noise that we all have in our lives.
I think that, if you were to tell these things to your shrink, he would tell you that it's a matter of your anger being displaced. Or maybe it's a matter of something Freudian, like you want to fuck your second cousin and kill your step-aunt. Who knows?
Things are cold down here in the South, but obviously nowhere as near as what you're feeling now. We've had snow, as I'm sure you know, twice this month, which is roaringly unusual for our little neck of the back woods. People here don't know how to handle snow, so even just an inch shuts down the city. It's amazing. And perhaps that's a metaphor for your fears of your own anger. You don't know how to handle it, or you tell yourself you don't know how to handle it, and so you overreact.
How's the Faulkner book?
Sincerely,
Bill
I've thought up several letters to write but haven't done so. I remember feeling the cold as I walked into my apartment last night, that bitter, clear, heavy cold that you only feel when the temperature is in the single digits... the kind of cold that makes you think that this is the REAL cold whereas the other cold was just a dream... I remember feeling that and then feeling sad for people that are homeless, and how foolish I am to be so angry about my lot in life when I have never been homeless.
I got ridiculously angry at traffic last night on the drive home from work. I've become the Boston driver that I've always hated, though I'm not totally psycho and reckless. I rage at people who drive below the speed limit, I curse at them, I ride their tail... all because I will, at worst, arrive home or at work 5 minutes later than I would if the objects of my derision were not in front of me. And I can hear your voice in my head, chastising or dismissing me because my feelings are more dwellings on negativity than anything else... and I know they are neurotic, but they are my thoughts and feelings, they are the window through which I view things, and I am defensive of them.
Lionel
*******************
Leo,
You are right, old chum; I am chastising you, though I am not dismissive of your concerns. It can be chilling to feel powerful and irrational negative feelings like that, especially when one looks at the news every day and wonders if our society has not gone mad. But why dwell on it? Everyone feels these things, or some approximation of them. You are not alone or even unusual in feeling these things. That is why I tend to dismiss these things when you bring them up, because it is all part of the background noise that we all have in our lives.
I think that, if you were to tell these things to your shrink, he would tell you that it's a matter of your anger being displaced. Or maybe it's a matter of something Freudian, like you want to fuck your second cousin and kill your step-aunt. Who knows?
Things are cold down here in the South, but obviously nowhere as near as what you're feeling now. We've had snow, as I'm sure you know, twice this month, which is roaringly unusual for our little neck of the back woods. People here don't know how to handle snow, so even just an inch shuts down the city. It's amazing. And perhaps that's a metaphor for your fears of your own anger. You don't know how to handle it, or you tell yourself you don't know how to handle it, and so you overreact.
How's the Faulkner book?
Sincerely,
Bill
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