audience raze if all the world's a stage, we aren't just the actors putting on a show; we're also out there in the audience, shouting direction at our on-stage counterparts, trying to exert some influence. but there's a disconnect between what we know that person on the stage should be doing, and the choices they're making. they're not following the script. they don't take direction very well. they don't seem to hear us at all. at least there's popcorn. 130217 ... nr every time she texts me it's like a news headline. "this is what i said to [so-and-so about a thing you don't know about]..." "hey! i had a great time yesterday at [so-and-so thing]" today's actually started with "here's a piece of news!" 220829 ... tender_square she texted to see if we could make time for a chat. i can't recall the last time we spoke by phone; probably when she was living down south last year. there was no need to phone after she moved back home. it's been over a month since we last communicated, and it happened over breakfast, in person, a joint celebration of birthdays. in the absence of weeks she said she "had a tough month internally" and then decided to "focus energy on dating," something i didn't agree with but didn't say so. she's in a "giddy girl phase," her words. she's been seeing someone. they met, they kissed, there are future dates. and i am happy for her; it's what she's wanted after wasting time on losers who strung her along, boy-men she got hung up on rescuing. after listening to a voice message where she chronicled every moment of her recent date--information i didn't ask for--i decided i couldn't take an avalanche of euphoria on phone call. i messaged to say that while i was excited for her, there was "a limit as to how much gush" i could endure. i feel i'm cast in the role of the bitter divorceé, which is cliché. but maybe it has more to do with recovering from a psychotic man moving out of my house who made my life hell for five months. she reacted badly, and said maybe it was best we didn't speak as planned this afternoon. and i wondered, how could she not have anything else on her agenda but this? i've been doing the personal calculations: how much of my fucking twenties (and my teens) did i waste on guys? i can't get those years back. how much creative work could i have accomplished with those hours of obsessing about the lows and throwing myself into the highs? i know my current mindset is dampening my ability to be present with her through this joy. but how is talking to her any different than holding a conversation with an inebriated person when i'm sober? she's lovesick and i am not the right audience right now. she feels like she can't share her joys with me; that she shouldn't have to "censor" herself--her words--when i never asked her to. "i have never been all about the guys," she claims. "i finally have something happening and i am so disappointed." i didn't write back. i didn't belabour the point. i wanted to say, "call me when you have more to your life that you want to share." 230918 what's it to you? who go blather from