Boxing Pandora

With references to Greek Mythology and Roman History in the first week of keeping this thing, the casual glancer might think this is some kind of scholarly podium at which I present my views on Classics. My answer to this is - "just read the damn blog." You'll see what I'm using the podium for in this class. 

The main point I wanted to get down in here, because I seem to forget it each time just before I do, is When you read someone else's diary, you will always get what you asked for.  I'm not talking blogs, but someone else's private thoughts - sometimes the truth will be a little too truthy for comfort. 

Take this guy, Victor for example. I met him in Uptown two weeks ago - we talk, we shag, we hang out for like 8 straight days, and then we kind of part ways. One person just doesn't call the other one day, and the other doesn't really notice. It happens every day. And I was pretty fine with this. It was okay by me. 

I knew he kept a blog. He updated it all the time - that's how I know. I didn't ever read it during the time we were hanging out, but after a couple days went by I just wanted to see what he was up to, to save even the work required for a phone call. 

I checked it in the middle of the night on a Friday. Janie is not the kind of girl who can be hurt by conventional means. I'm kind of invincible like that. But what I read in his blog I don't think was meant for the public eye, and especially not mine. The story I made up in my mind is that he got back from the bar (via the 3:13 am timestamp on the post) and wrote a post after talking to his friends about me, got a lot of "skank" and "walking STD trap" junk from them, decided to write it out, But forgot to hit "private" on the post.  You wanted uncensored truth - you got it lady. 

"Go ahead, fall from any height. I'll take care of the consequences."

Like I said - I can't be hurt - I've heard it all before, but I am a sensual person, and reading that definitely stung a little.  I just wondered if he was thinking those things on his own while we were hanging out, or if those were just implanted opinions after a night out with the boys. Either way, he's either gutless or cruel. I didn't cry or anything. I was just a little let down because he seemed very genuine.  

But like I said, when you read someone else's private thoughts, you always get what you asked for. I was certainly asking for it.  However, It can be a number of different things.

 And when you say you're let down; where are you let down from, and where do you land? Those are the very subjective points of data that can usually elucidate the truth from the very nondescript phrase of saying "I was let down." 

*Were you dropped from a warm and cuddly pipe-dream onto the cold steel surface of reality?

*Did you accidentally crawl through a storm drain on the surface of reality and fall into the sewer of poor regard? 

In this case it kind of felt like I was dropped from a stunt helicopter through some clouds that simply obscured the distance to the hollywood crash balloon below. The only element of surprise was "when am I going to hit?" I hit the bag, take off my helmet and cape and bow to the wild applause of an adoring crowd. I won't lie - the pills I'm on definitely act like the best stunt bag money can by. Go ahead, fall from any height - I'll take care of the consequences. Including those of this little episode. 

For now, I'll be in my trailer. (hmm, that's a good nickname for me: "Stunt Bag.")

(Maybe as a tribute to Victor, I'll pop this blog's cherry and go into detail about about some of his bedroom heroics... and shortcomings.) (Isn't the truth tasty?)

See you soon, Vic. ;)