Like Moths To My Fame

I am well known but the terms of my treatment mean I cannot reveal precisely in what way I am famous. Actually, scratch that. The multiplicity of talents that I have, I am a regular polymath, means I cannot identify precisely the one reason I am famous. What this does mean is that whenever I attend a drinks party for example, I find it exhausting. I attended one last night at the house of a close personal friend. He has a splendid house and it is near, but not equal to the value of my own. Anyway, whenever I arrive I am besieged by those seeking my attention. I find the first person I talk to wants to hear all about my achievements but I am conscious that I can see someone else glancing in my direction and no doubt wanting to listen to me. This makes for a dilemma. The person I am regaling is clearly entranced by my monologue but I see others want the benefit of my presence and I have to provide it to them. Sometimes, they make it easier and a small crowd will assemble to ooh and aah at my diatribe, but usually I have to move from person to person round the room. I often think I ought to carry a written bulletin of what I have been doing and distribute it. At least that way I can get around to everybody. I would hate to think that I would ever leave someone out. My girlfriend usually complains that I am talking to all the other women and not her, but she does not understand. She does not get the same attention that I do. That is hardly my fault is it? She even complained when she found me in the bedroom with a younger lady. We were only talking but along she comes checking up on me. She can be controlling at times and I have to put her in her place. I did when we got home, there’s no need for a dressing down in public. Still all was not lost by her interruption. I have the young lady’s telephone number and I have managed to find her on Facebook so you will have to excuse me as I have a fluttering moth that needs to be shown the light.

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Target Acquired

I have new neighbours. A man and a woman. He seems pretty ordinary and that is reinforced by his choice of motor vehicle. It is inferior to mine. He engaged me in conversation over the garden fence although I did not listen to much of what he had to say as I was watching the woman. I suspect she feels lonely because all he did was talk about where he worked and what sports he liked and did not ask about me. If he is like that with his neighbour, he must be far worse with the woman. I told him my car was better than his. A simple statement of fact. This at least shut him up and enabled me to explain why my car is superior in looks, performance and reliability. This clearly impressed the woman as she kept looking over at me and smiling. I like her. I always have done. She is attractive. Very attractive and evidently feels a connection to me judging by the looks she kept sending me. I did not get chance to speak to her as Dullard tried to bring the conversation back to him, but I resisted and kept on telling him about my car and where I went on a driving holiday. Unfortunately this meant I could not speak to her and she went inside but I could sense she wanted to engage with me. I will call on her. Preferably when the Dullard is not there. I forget where he said he worked. It obviously was not meaningful.

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Colouring my thinking

One of my doctors, I call him Doctor E (for earnest) asked me what my favourite colour is. I was delighted to enlighten him about this. I explained that it is not red ; too many people like red and I am not too many people. Far from it. I followed this by explaining that pink, being a tint of red is similarly displeasing. Dr E was unaware that red is the only colour that has a separate name for one of its tints, i.e. pink. I sensed Dr E does not know as much as he should. I dismissed yellow as that is the colour of emotional fragility and I don’t have a yellow streak. Orange is for children. Brown. Ugh, brown is the lumpy, unsophisticated colour of the prole. My skin crawls at the thought of that colour. Violet is the favourite colour of my ex-wife so that can be discounted too. Alongwith green for the same reason. Silver is the colour of the runner-up and therefore not applicable to me. He interrupted me at this point and said he had asked for my favourite colour not the reasons why I didn’t like different colours. I considered leaving at this idiotic comment. I was explaining all of this to help him understand my choice. I pressed on. I explained that black is acceptable since it absorbs all other colours. Blue is a colour I approve of, specifically azure as it is noble and regal. However, white is my favourite. He asked why. I said that white constitutes total reflection.

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Why am I doing this?

As part of my efforts to elude those seeking to enforce their worldview on me (they laughingly call themselves doctors) I have agreed to detail and write about what I do so the world may better understand me and my kind. I’m happy to oblige. I love an audience. Moreover I am told (told – really?) I must engage with you so this is your opportunity to comment on my writings, question me, express your own views and apparently you are even invited to challenge me (if you dare) so please talk away. I’m sure you will enjoy getting to know all about me.

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