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We are having technical difficulties, primarily due to the electricity’s untrustworthy tendency to flicker out, and as such I write this post quickly in the fortunate window between one powerloss and another.

I’ve been hard at work on my poem Jack’s Trick, a rough draft of which you can read in my last post here.

Other than that, let me share some thoughts I had about an interesting conversation I had:


Running into an old school chum this afternoon, and, discovering we were heading in the same direction, I found myself in familiar company. However, a stranger wanted to know whether or not this train went to so and so. I told him I myself was traveling there, and that yes it would. He was very friendly, and engaging us in conversation, soon made apparent that he and I shared a similar political outlook. My old chum and I, however, are nearly diametrically opposed on every issue imaginable.

But in our conversing, I discovered something. This old chum of mine, though hearing, did not understand. I said something to the effect that women were biologically suited to nurture. She argued that, compared to me, she was far less sensitive. She made the point triumphantly, which confused me, because it did not seem germane to anything I had said. I explained this to her, and she grew quiet in that terrible way offended women do.

C’est la vie

Perhaps I misunderstood her, or she me, but her actions seemed to personify this general jumping of the gun, of waiting for something to be offended by, that pervades discourse between the two political sides. Knowing my own beliefs, I am shocked to learn what others think I mean or say. It’s like I’ve switched realities, landing in the middle of a conversation where I just insulted someone.

Perhaps this is how James Damore feels, after being made infamous over writing a simple memo. I am now running into shores I’ve not tested the depths of, I haven’t read the letter, but could it be that in searching to argue our own sides we hear without hearing?


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