Well, I have a policy against talking to cockhungry fisting bottoms from WeHo, or guys in their “anything of anything” if that means they’re “in the program” .. and YET here we are.
There was a time and a place (back in the covered wagon days) in San Francisco when we ordered all our drugs from the Sears catalogue and then went to the End Up for three days straight … then you’d be invited to an after after after-hours orgy in a closed furniture store after its business hours or something.
I started tapping my foot. I snapped a finger.
I’d heard the backstory about the founder.
She had behavioral problems and she’d been kicked out of every group in town.
So she went off and founded this place. It helps thousands of people every month.
I knew it was her when I saw her.
She had a couple stacks of paper for a staff training exercise.
She started to explain it, and I said “these are hexidecimal color codes.”
She lit up.
Each piece of paper was broken up into a grid representing a master code with the hex codes for all 256 shades of grey. In HTML and graphics, colors are represented by a hex code , with #00 00 00 being black at one end and #FF FF FF being white at the other end.
The other stacks of paper contained variations of greys in the 16K color range. (The color range can actually extend into the millions. On older computers/graphics processing hardware, they’d pruned that down to about 256 colors on your screen… over time that became 32,000 colors, then 64,000 colors and so on and so on and so on .. my Mac can display millions of colors with four or five scaled resolution options.)
What’s the point of the exercise?
Survivors of abuse and trauma are prone to “black and white” thinking, that is to say, “I like you right up until the point that you do or say something that I don’t like.”
And then it isn’t “I’m upset about this thing you said.”
It’s “I don’t like you anymore.”
I watched this sweet old lady describe the exercise.
I tried to imagine some hateful support group deciding that she was garbage and should be thrown away.
I just loved how she basically said “fuck you” and created all of this.
We were on Facetime and I was telling him about some of the volunteer work I do, I was talking about how some of the folks who come in are court-ordered, and they’re all mad about it and bitching that it’s a bunch of bullshit and they got played, and blah blah blah and I ask them if they’d rather grab a broom and sweep the 101 or, you know, you can always tell the judge fuck off I’d rather be in jail — right?
I talked about how the “probationers” might not be addicts but they probably have other stuff going on. Legal problems, living in rough neighborhoods, just living the life… and how I was sitting there with a couple of them just kicking it and talking about life. We were cutting up small pieces of paper for a staff training exercise and they were actually enjoying what they were doing so much that I pretended that I didn’t know that there was a paper slicer that could have cut all of this paper in about two minutes flat.
I guess after I told him a couple stories about what I was up to lately, he was finally comfortable enough to tell me that he was extremely suicidal the night that I’d met him and that I looked “scary” and that he was just hoping I’d come over and kill him.
“But no, you were really sweet and smart and cool and-”
I just stared at my phone in disbelief.
I guess… that says a lot… about your needs versus my needs…