I’ont fuckin’ no!

Like I said, I’ve tried shit like this before. Being nice to people and shit, thinking up back stories for them that explain everything that annoys me about them. Sure, people are annoying as fuck in the real world, but they’re much more annoying in restaurants. That’s ground we already covered. That’s ground we covered twice or three times.

But yeah let’s get off that by starting a new paragraph. Boom! Subject changed, mother fuckers.

Ho damn where we at, it’s a new paragraph. Paragraphs are fences for words. We bout to hop this fence!


Yeah I tried that shit before, sure, but that shit is mentally and emotionally exhaustin’. Making up stories about people, giving people space, thinking about how complex and rich is their inner life. Thinking about that Neil Gaiman quote about people having incomprehensible universes inside of them. Consider all that and be like, you know, let me give these crazy fucks a chance.

The trick isn’t to control their bullshit by figuring them out. Or rather, trying to figure them out, since you don’t know shit about what other people are thinking and you will probably never get close to figuring anyone out, much fucking less someone you don’t even know.

The trick is to be kind to them and to hell with figuring them out. Who gives a shit about them anyway. This is about how you act and, consequently, how you feel. They may not even exist. They can go to the devil!

Fuck em!

But be really nice to them, too. 

Nah, not nice, nice kind of sounds weak. Kindness and niceness, what’s the fuckin’ difference? 

Well for starters, no one ever says, no more Mr. Kind Guy.

Anyways, this is the last day of my work week. No new gray hairs, so this kindness shit is still going well.

Also somehow I fucked up the chronology of my posts when I updated my first kindness post to correct obsequies to obsequious, that’s two different goddamn things.

Sorry if that fucks up your feed.

Pointless Update #5

Halfway through my second double shift in a row. Hard to move, really.

So last night’s experiment in kindness went well: I didn’t get stressed out and there were no real assholes. Coincidence? Maybe. 

I tried it again this morning and it went well. I feel pretty good about it. 

Now I’m supposed to remember to enjoy life and be playful. Great. Sounds like something I will really excel at…

Here’s something I thought about this morning: 

It’s more fun to be seen reading the New Yorker than it is to read the New Yorker. 

I’m just guessing since I don’t read it, but seems true.