Monthly Archives: July 2008

Persona Non Grata

I sought in vain yesterday for the ancient Greek appellation for the literary and oratory practice of producing three examples, adjectives, adverbs, etc. “Triad” is all I come up with, but I feel like they would have had a name for such a rhetorical device as that. It’s very disappointing–I feel like I’ve been looking for it for years, and now, at 27, I am still a failure. It is not for me to find.

But that failure continued today when God-Awful-Cunt-of-a-Mortgage-Broker, Allotta Betchin we’ll use as her shortened name, reached out to my civil inquiry on the point of her 2 months of delinquent condo fees with a wholly unwarranted tirade against me, her most poignant description of my person and abilities being “incompetent screw-up”. And Mr. I-Can’t-Get-a-Real-Job-So-I-Call-Myself-a-Consultant-When-Really-My-Wife-Pays-the-Bills takes offense when I begrudgingly grant him access to the office WHEN WE’RE OBVIOUSLY CLOSED. You know something: Fuck you people.

There is something seriously wrong when I have at every turn been polite, professional, and thorough, and you stoop to acerbic name calling–or interacted with you on a near daily basis with congeniality and professionalism and you take a swing when I’m in the rare form of begrudging. I don’t do ‘begrudging’ that often, and when I do, it’s for a reason–probably because I shouldn’t have answered the door for you BECAUSE WE WERE IN THE MIDDLE OF A SCHEDULED FUCKING MEETING, ASSHOLE!

I really don’t like Massachusetts. I don’t like the cities, the roads, the people, the stores–it’s all fucked. I know–I know–you don’t like me either, MA–but could you just go easy on me until I get the fuck out of here? Is it necessary to torture me to the extent that you do? I was suicidal in Jersey, how the hell is MA going to push me over the edge? Arrrgh…


Ghost Friend of the Archipelagos

I’ve taken the leap and deleted the Myspace account after over 4 years of memoire entries, picture posting, and collecting friends and family, alive & dead. My writing entries there were only on rare occasions anyway, but it was the connections I had that really mattered. My circle of friends was reasonably low–in the 50-60’s range–comprised of people I knew directly and in depth, as well as people I knew peripherally but would have liked to have gotten to know better. I even recently found a friend I had acquired and lost some 16 years ago–a momentous occasion really.

Yet my narcisissm won’t allow me to cut the cord entirely. I know there are at least three people who will have noted my departure by the new “X”s in their top friends list, but as for the other 50-some Friends, I wonder if they’ve even noticed I’m gone. So I’ve been going back to haunt the site every few days, feeling like a ghost checking in on the living, straining to hear my name, even if just in passing remarks like, “Hey, did you notice Dione deleted her profile?” I haven’t noted any eugoogalies yet, but I’m patient.

But Myspace did matter to me, as a tool for keeping in touch with friends and associates. As much as I moved around in my youth, I had hoped to reconnect with a few of the scattered souls I have found in my travels along the East Coast. Haply I did just that with 3 or 4 people, and I’m sure the list would have continued had I remained, but c’est la vie. We’ve all got to go sometime. Funny how much friends and family come to mean as we grow older. Funny, too, that in the folly of my youth I thought I was an island. I know better now: I’m an archipelago. Or part of one, at least.