That always scared the shit out of me – the idea that you didn’t understand yourself as well as you’d like. Self-examination wasn’t exactly the calm, clear gaze of a 5-year-old who’d found fascination. More often it was simply terror.
“I guess I just don’t understand the draw. You know?”
And then I knew. I did.
Spin it. That’s what they tell you in advertising, in marketing, yes,
in journalism. Take that baby by the tip and spin til it twirled.
“I don’t get your draw to her, Kel. She’s just some hotel worker. You
know?”
The ugly part of me, coming out hard. Spin it back. The only way to
soothe yourself.
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