...
I feel as though I know precisely where this picture was taken, and maybe even when I was there. Alex was darn smart, darn hypocritical, irritating as fuck, and too sexist by half.
...
Irony, irony. "john", who reviles internet anonymity, takes exception to this mode of expressing my odd sense of grief over this loss to the world of my irritating old acquaintance. Seems to think reprimanding me for my lack of disingenuousness is some incarnation of righteous. The irony in it, if he were only less obtuse, is that he could be Alex's ghost doing this.
Tension, agitation, anxiety and thrust are warning bells.
I'm not blazing cool enough, not resting in a solid-enough connection.
Truth is not seen or heard; cannot be said or given; people will respond according to potential, only, and no more.
Sight and non-contrivance themselves point, and are all that can be done.
It was a shame, a wasted opportunity, but at least with Alex I thought he really was aware of his SOPHISTRY, that this implied he would transcend it. But, I guess, this accounts for my vague sense of grief, here. I think he died before he "got" it.
.
