Friends who post comments frequently may notice that I no longer allow anonymous comments 'round here. I did this because of numerous comments from an unknown person that annoy me. Most recently we have this one from a person I will call "Spitspine" because he or she won't identify him or herself:
"Recycling old material?
Why not try to convince the world of your unappreciated awesomeness by reprinting the "getting let go letter".
Keep hiting the sake, sometimes going for broke is entertaining.
DWL:'I've got a message of unrecognizably omniscient love and insight that I present to you."
World:'Yawn, show me something interesting.'"
Aside from not being able to spell "hitting,"Spitspine writes that I'm "recycling old material." I honestly don't know what that means, and would like to know if I'm repeating myself in the "Sermon on the Brokeback Mount" post. Since I'm not sure who Spitspine is, I can't ask, thus the new approach to anonymous comments.
And "unappreciated awesomeness" certainly can't be aimed at me, at least by anyone who knows me. It has no currency because that's not how I see this blog or myself. What is written under the blog title is true...
My name is Darren W. Lyle and I sometimes can't sleep, or need to vent and therefore write. Some of what I write ends up here. It is of no consequence to anyone or anything, so you need not take it even as seriously as a comic strip or postage stamp. Although there is truth here, about me.
I write this thing because I enjoy it. Sometimes I get an email from a friend or my brother telling me that they think this or that is funny or interesting, and it means a lot to me. Why? Because I have a sad and pathetic life full of reading and domestic chores. There are intense bright spots in my life, and generally speaking I'm fortunate, but there are no accomplishments that mean anything to anyone but me.
My strategy in life is basically to kill time and control pain and my illness until the world is relieved of my dead weight upon my death. Beyond that, I'm in love with my beloved and care about a handful of people. I do not feel unappreciated because I honestly and deeply feel that I haven't anything to offer, and I don't care. That is why I'm essentially in hiding, in my flat near Boston, working as hard as I can to be a good son, brother and partner. Beyond that, the clock is ticking toward my liberation.
If you're trying to get under my skin, and this goes for everyone, here are some suggestions about things that really do bother me.
1. Infertility. Even if you don't want to have children, there is an incredible power behind just knowing that you could have them if you wanted. When you're like me, and have no means of procreation, there is a nagging feeling of existential irrelevance that is surprisingly potent.
2. Bipolar Disorder/Borderline Personality Disorder/Avoidant Personality Disorder. Any of these will do, as they all have caused misery upon misery for me and those I love. If you're trying to "get to me" this should be your recurring theme.
3. Regret. Because of #2 there, I've done things and lost friends, and some of those people and events haunt me. Most recently, I lost my oldest friend, and there has to be at least 20 things I regret doing while she talked to me.
4. Disability. I can't work. With this alone you could have me crumbling. Just be clever about it. It causes unspeakable self-loathing, guilt and is behind most self-injury.
5. Screwing Around. Sex for me is about love, but for awhile I used it like a drunk uses whiskey. A woman's marriage fell apart because of me. If your archery is good, you could find a target here.
And finally, if you really want to get to me...
6. My mother. Back in 2001, my mother died of cancer after a long and painful battle. But I don't remember her last year among the living because of electro-convulsive therapy (ECT). It totally wiped out my memory of her as she said goodbye. Totally. I get stories from other people like they are talking about someone else. If you add the misery my depression and mania caused to the big picture, you'll have powerful ammunition to make me a sad clown.
Like I said, however, the price of doing this is you have to identify yourself.