I was thinking about myself and the way I act, how I listen, how people see me, all those things you think about as the year turns new. I was reading my first Charles Bukowski, aptly called Hollywood. I thought this about myself on the plane on my way back here to L.A., but never could put it into words. It is strange how the world works, how everything ties together at a certain time in your life. I read this and sat back:
"I lapsed into my pathetic cut-off period. Often with humans, both good and bad, my senses simply shut off, they get tired, I give up. I am polite. I nod. I pretend to understand because I don't want anybody to be hurt. That is the one weakness that has lead me to the most trouble. Trying to be kind to others I often get my soul shredded into a kind of spiritual pasta" -Bukowski
The most private thing I am willing to admit, is that sometimes I am not really listening.
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