Who matters

There are probably five people in this world whose opinion I really value. Meaning if they said they were disappointed in me I'd be depressed. Or if they told me to do something of questionable value, I wouldn't ask questions.

Everybody else, sorry, your opinion means shit. I'll listen, nod, and smile. But then I'll throw it out like yesterday's Journal. Or I'll forget it because my short-term memory is damn near that poor son of a bitch from Memento. (What a depressing movie. I interpreted the theme as saying the passage of time and making new memories is more than just functioning like a normal; it's about the ability to heal. New memories simulate time which, even more ironically, enables us to forget how awful we felt when something bad really happened. Throw that in your cornflakes. Also, if you haven't read it, a sad and beautiful piece on the power of music.)

But I think it works conversely as well - meaning my opinion only really matters to only five other people. I could propose that buying a shoe factory would be a good investment and they'd strongly consider it. And similarly, the majority of you out there probably take my idea and then flush them down the toilet like a fresh wad of T. Which is fine, because I generally have nutty ideas.

My world is more shallow than it is broad, like the kiddie section of the public pool.

Whatever you do, don't look up 2 girls 1 cup. Just don't. It's just awful.