Christmas Parties

I suppose it could be said that your rudeness and overall foul nature (unless you are talking to collectors) has less to do with me than your own self-loathing. If at any point you are interested in bottling that energy, I know of a weapons producing art collector who is looking to diversify beyond the usual troika of mustard gas, anthrax and brucellosis.

Then again, I know how you find my offers condescending, how my attempts at the humour you practice (so happily?) only annoy you further, leading me to wonder, Just what is it that makes me so heedful, so aggravating? I am prepared to listen to you tell me what it is that ails you, but I can't entirely take responsibility for it when I don't exactly know what it is about myself that has you so bothered. Not until you tell me, that is.

That last paragraph was added a couple hours after the first one. I think I shall continue to add to it for as long as I can, until I arrive at something helpful (to all of us). I am sincere in my quest. I have for too long pretended to not care what it is that I do to you and to others who scrunch up their noses in my presence, who behave so rudely. Perhaps the illusion that I can take it only contributes to that. I am British that way. Not in the You-love-everyone-you-love-no-one way, but that other Victorian adage: You can't hurt me. Not anymore.