Method in the madness

Last night was odd. First watching the Notorious C.H.O. with J*Fish was odd, since I'd listened to it in Paris with people who I'm having dinner with in Paris on Friday. Then J*Fish's roommate, you know, Lady, Whatisname, explained the mechanics of flight to me when I voiced how freaked I am by flying. That used to be the Madman's job (people around me are acquainted with my phobia to the point of tedium and find ways to deal with it as quickly as possible. Sometimes it's with drugs; sometimes it's by explaining flight.) Whatsisname looks a lot like the Madman. And I was pleasantly fucked out of my skull on reefer and codeine, which added to the exchange.

I've been realizing for awhile I had a major victim complex coming out of that relationship and last night drove it home. I can admit now there were reasons I was there besides engaging in some bizarre sado-masochistic self-mutilating experiment. There were alot of things about the Madman that were really nice, like the explaining of the mechanics of flight when I was sure my aeroplanes would drop out of the sky like rocks unless I furiously concentrated on keeping them up with the power of my mind. When he went crazy it was hard to accept, since he'd been great before that.

So why is this important? It's not as if he's any less crazy or I'm going to have any less of a fight-or-flight mechanism kick in whenever I think I see him. It's important, though, because I'd forgotten that relationships can be nice. That maybe I've been concentrating on the horrible times with the Madman to help me not feel any regret about the good ones being toast, and that may have warped my outlook. That the key thing is knowing when to walk away, and not automatically assuming that's RIGHT AWAY because if they're hot and nice they must also be crazy.

I'd apologize for writing such a personal post and promise not to do it again, but I probably will, so, you know, there you are.