annanotbob's diary

annanotbob's Diaryland Diary

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Fishin'

Weird stuff this morning. I checked out my myspace page for the first time in ages and there was a message from this American guy that I 'met' on a writing site a couple of years ago. At the time he'd written something thoughtful and passionate about school shootings in the States that got some of the others on the site very riled. It was clear that he was young and that he wanted to try and understand the motivation of people who do these things. There was nothing in the story itself that supported mass killing, or any other anti-social behaviour - the character was angry and fucked-up but the narrative voice was neutral.

Well, he might as well have owned up to shooting JFK, Princess Di and John Lennon; the response he got was simply outrageous. Not entirely, but there was a barrage of 'crawl back into your hole, sicko, we don't want your filth on this decent site'. His replies suggested that all was not well in his head, but I didn't think he deserved all that shit so I sent him some kind of supportive message and a more measured critique of his story. He got chucked off the writing site but found me on facebook and we communicated for a bit, but he started to freak me out so I stopped replying and soon forgot all about him and the nasty writing site.

Today he was back, apologising for his silence and suggesting I google his real name to see where he'd been. Fuck me, he's been banged up for having an arsenal of hideous automatic weapons and ammunition and creeping people out. He only got 18 months in prison, no mention of any treatment and he doesn't sound any calmer for the experience. Aw man.

Everything about this scares the shit out of me - it's TV stuff, not real life, and especially not my dull British real life. But of course it is real for far too many people. You'd think I'd know by now that, like everyone, I'm only a hair's breadth away from hideous brutality, yet I seem to drift along, living as if this is a nice world and such proximity to violence continue to shock the shit out of me.

By the time I got to my group at the hospital I was twitching like a good 'un, but sadly all memory of this guy had drifted right out of my mind. H took me to one side and asked what was up and I was clutching at all kinds of straws to try and account for my agitation, but not a whisper of any of it, till I sat down at the PC this evening. I had to check that it was true and not just a really fun fantasy, and it is. Shit.

Bob didn't care. She's more into the fish: