Special Olympics Intransigence

In an anecdote for Jon Bateman, who perhaps shares that type of mystifying and implacable Canadian temperament with his countrymen, one that finds my Italian American histrionics to be something of a puzzle, let me say I love hockey, and wheelchair hockey is probably the one para Olympic sport I have an enthusiasm for, since I love brawls on skates. Now the bad news that I will state in readily accessible fashion: I do not want anymore disabled friends, either in virtual or real life. This does not mean you cannot comment on my blog and tell me to go to hell for sabotaging the empowerment tactics you all hold dear, and I am using you in a mass plural, and not singling out Mr. Bateman per se, but I am singling out young women like Louise indirectly, and I will broaden this out slightly to explain that I do not like interacting with fans of my work. You can follow me, praise me, damn me, yell at me like my half-brother Benjamin that I "need something," and I may or may not respond, but no friendships unless I decide otherwise. It simply does not work out for me. I trusted Linda C. Dezenski. I trusted Josie Byzek. I trusted Jimmi Shrode. I trusted Erik von Schmetterling, and while Cassie James did not exactly violate my trust, I believed in her integrity once, and that has sunk with the ship. Trying to stay friends with my semi-imbecile ex did not work, and the mentally retarded who are my high functioning neighbors flee my company like a bat out of hell, the inverse being true, as well, that the friends I attempted attachment to did not want me. Louise sent me a nice email about my work and I put it away. She later resurfaced, and the attempted familiarity was a mistake, and from now on I will keep the walls in place. Writing about the personal is different than interpersonal intimacy. Ask the more affluent British writer Will Self, who I may or may not email, but if I do I will not directly court his intimacy. I am published enough that I resist fan psychology, and even when it comes to Niall Ferguson, despite my mildly subversive tongue in cheek, my mode of operation is looking for new peer support venues. In other words, interact if you like, but seeking a bond with me is off the table. Ablest writers at my level or above, excepting the few I have already linked to and kept, will be taken on a case by case basis.