Arangements v. Arguments

A rational discussion about my mental states.

Imagine that.

Someone who understands.  Who gets that the writing is me.  But only the extremes of me.  Sure this shit is really what is going on in my brain.  But does that really count as me at 3 in the morning on 5 hours of sleep in three days and to much rum.  She understands that I have to work myself into a state to get the "art" that I want 

from my writing.

And how does she understand that.

I told her.

And fuck me if she didn't listen.  And she didn't mock.  Or tell me to stop.  She encouraged me (though she is careful to tell me that I need to take good care of myself because she wants to keep me around).  She made me feel like there is value to all of this.  Even this dumb blog.  Even the words that may never see the light of a publishers office.  All of it she counts as good.

I've never had that before.  Well once before.  But this counts as the same time.

So in spite of my lunatic ravings, my idiotic posturing and my drunken madness she makes arrangements with me.  Instead of blasting me with her best argument.  But she sees right through the mask I wear, and that is her best argument.  That she knows me so well is a better argument than, "Stop it asshole."

I'm the writer of an open book.

I like that.

File under Virtue.