We looked into each other’s eyes and he averted his; he didn’t want to talk to me. I was indifferent, avoiding him. It wasn’t therefore a moment of repulsion, as had occurred before (and has been gone into in an earlier blog) but it was analogous to it in that the day before that moment and this, I’d been talking to him in front of a colleague, and that he’d been embarrassed by what I said to him of him in front of the colleague had precipitated his repulsion. We never went into that consciously. He said there’d be time to. Apparently not. He’s going. Since he’d got over it, I didn’t broach our moment of repulsion again though it has been the most interesting moment in our acquaintanceship and, if he had wanted to know me, he should know what I am and our going over that moment would have told him. He doesn’t want to know. There’s no point going over that moment with him now.
I may have said something he didn’t like this time too but all I can recall is repeating a witticism I’d made to somebody else about the somebody else that couldn’t possibly be taken as true and the impassively smiling face of his colleague throughout. Oh and that he’d unfriend me on Facebook. Oh and that I’d miss him. Oh I don’t know. Maybe he was frightened I was conveying there was more to the relationship than there was. Or maybe it was something completely other. I may have felt indifference but I’ll ask, if he’s at all forthcoming, why he didn’t want to talk to me yesterday. I’d only have told him anyway that these blogs turn up on Facebook, and Twitter too under the name of JohnnyTaggart, as well as on the Ki Publishing site, and are read on Facebook exclusively by my beloved ex-sister-in-law who keeps tabs on me (as on everybody else!} Nobody else on Facebook is remotely interested in giving attention to anybody else.
[We were pleased to see each other. I asked,”Why didn’t you want to speak to me yesterday?” He didn’t know what I was talking about. “Was I serving a customer?” he asked. I didn’t know because, on the shared look, I had gone back up the aisle instead of forward. I slapped him on his soft belly.
Yet I’m holding onto that look. I hadn’t misinterpreted it. People are moody and don’t always want to talk to each other. There’s more to it than that. For me life is material for art and I have an unconscious able to direct it to that end by, for example, instilling the same look at the same time in two pairs of eyes, and I took it from there in writing this blog. Because unconscious at the time, he wouldn’t be conscious of it. He might as well be used for aesthetic purposes. It gives me something interesting to do while alive.
He likened himself to a bird. “A vulture?” I hunched my shoulders. He preferred, “An eagle!” More like a spyug (house sparrow in children’s Scotch.) I laughed, turning away. A girl was smiling. “What are you smiling at?” I slapped her with my wrapped fish. “You guys!” she said.]