14 June, 1997

I don't like most people. Not that I hate them, or I'd like to see them beaten with a dirty spatula. I just don't want to be around a majority of the people I meet.

Like the people on some (all) of the mailing lists to which I've subscribed. If I met any one of them on the street, I wouldn't be their friend. I wouldn't greet them with a hearty salutation, ask how their kids are, leave them with a cheery "see you soon." They have nothing to offer me, nothing in common. I read the notes on my mailing lists, and I feel so isolated, removed. They talk about and become incensed about the most asinine things. And I sit here thinking, "Who the hell are these people? They can't be real. I thought the net was a little more intelligent than all this." But it isn't. They certainly aren't. And I don't like them.

They must know how I feel, though. Somehow, I've betrayed my feelings. They ignore the fuck out of me. You might think that's just fine. Not I. Just because I don't necessarily dig someone's scene doesn't mean they get to be rude to me.

And, don't misunderstand. It isn't that I loathe every single person I run across. There are a few I like, or think that I would if they'd stop allowing themselves to be molded by the group. If they'd come down off their popularity high horses and realise they're being carted around on the shoulders of sycophants.

I should probably unsubscribe from most of those lists, you're right. One of these days, I'm sure I will. Someday soon here, my gut feeling will finally fill a tank larger than my curiosity does. Until that happens, I've resigned myself to apathetic observer. I'm telling you, group dynamics is a strange thing.