I Sound Different
November 7, 2003
I've been told by people who know me in real life that I seem "different" in my blog writing than I do in person.
"Or maybe it's just that in real life you don't say everything that's on your mind," she said.
“Well, of course not. Who -- aside from maybe a cokehead -- ever says everything that's on their mind?”
"But is everything you write true? I mean, I remember when you wrote about my birthday party—" I wrote about her party once and she remembered it differently than I did. But when we talked about what I'd written, there was nothing that was untrue.
"I can only write from my perspective. You and I can be sitting here right next to each other at the same bar, drinking the same drink, surrounded by the same people, but the way the night is filtered through your eyes is different from the way it's filtered through mine. It doesn't mean I'm lying."
"Of course," she said. "But you exaggerate sometimes, right?"
Believe me, the shit I leave out is funnier and stranger than the shit I put in, and if I had only been clever enough to be anonymous when I started, this blog would be a whole hell of a lot more interesting. But it isn't.
November 10, 2003
Lately, my friend has been talking about disappearing. I don't take him too seriously. It's just a way for him to ease his anxiety. He's like someone with claustrophobia who needs to see the door -- if he can see a way out, he can breathe a little easier. He told me he wants to lose weight and go to Mexico on a stolen passport.
"Wait, why do you have to lose weight?" I asked. He's in pretty good shape to begin with.
He grabbed his stomach with both hands and squeezed. "I just want to lose this belly so I can be styling when I'm hanging out with the bikini girls on the beach," he said.
"Just go down there and drink the water. You'll lose all kinds of weight."
He went on and on talking of various ways to vanish without a trace. Mexico was the main one, but he had a million ideas -- each more elaborate than the next. "But I don't think it's that easy to get a fake identity these days," he said.
"Yeah, I suppose not." I agreed. "But why do you need a fake identity anyway? Why not leave the country on your own passport and just never come back?"
"I guess so." he said. "But that means I can't kill my landlord first."
