Trained Monkey

Some days, writing ends up as pretty fucking thankless. Yesterday was a prime example of this, and I realise that unless I’m going to spend hours upon hours explaining every motivation to people, this is an inevitable consequence of my actions. What this does mean, of course, is that to ensure there’s no confusion at all, I have to shut up shop. No outbursts, no asides, no anything that could be construed as anything it isn’t. In the long run, that’s not really an issue.

It will be an interesting exercise in my ability to be concise.

What I find amazing however is other people’s guilty consciences. I always thought that it was a joke that this happened, but Twitter amplifies the concept of the personal conversation to the point where, if the replies and comments align, it is incredibly easy to construe just about anything you like from the resultant perceived ‘conversation.’ The result of this is simply to ensure that you don’t give the Timeline anything at all with which to feed their paranoia. Because ultimately that is what it is. Actually, as an exercise in clarity, this becomes perhaps more entertaining than being unintentionally vague.

The key is to have nothing to hide to begin with. As I’m pretty much coming to this party as a blank canvas, that’s no problem. The other issue is those people who feel they know you and are therefore somehow allowed to call you a ‘friend’, when no actual effort or genuine communication has taken place on that front at all. For them, this could end up being a bit of a wakeup call. As I don’t care about numbers, that’s pretty much a moot point.

I look for honesty above everything else when communicating with anyone. If that’s something you’re not prepared to do, we ultimately have nothing to say to each other.