Memorialize This Steve, That Steve

26 May

art-zm35

Payoffs To Being Steve Taylor

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Well, I've been up since 4:05 this morning, and now it is 6:08. But the only thing I can think of is "Why would you want to call me by 10 AM on Memorial Day unless you have REAL NEWS pertinent to our mutual situation? Yesterday Sue and I worked up a contract to affirm the full periphery of our business committments to you. That deed helped only somewhat to pull me out of my weeklong funk began on Monday when you were last here, yet I was somewhat pleased that I was awake early this morning ready to face yet another day of uncertainty with Steve. But then I was so lethargic last night I was out cold rather early, and am still heavy lidded even as I write this.

You need to get a grip on yourself Steve. I can't and now refuse to be there for every particle accelerated thought process you have tearing through your head like gonzo gushed banshees anymore. You have worn me slap down to a frazzle. You have never been at a loss to protect yourself, proclaim your own busy-ness, harrumph your own choices of the moment at the expense of what is nominally expected from one's own word to others, bouncing all over the map of possibility without the humility to slow down and count the cost to others, and from a self-preservation perspective, that's admirable, but one-sided, Steve. Your own mental health is paying the price for you. The reckoning has arrived. If you want to do business together, fine, I welcome that and will move mountains to make this activity a success. Let's focus on this aspect of our commonality, and keep for the most part the rest of our thoughts where they belong, tucked neatly out of sight, bothering no one but ourselves. I have weathered your storms for some time now, thinking you would eventually mature and snap out of this selfish craze you put yourself and everybody you lean on through, but I am losing that faith, and fast.

In the end we may part friends or enemies, but that end may be chuckling just around the corner because, sir, we DO have history, and sir, you DO have a reputation, and unless you can change the course of that rushing river of destruction you have become in sloshing over everything in your path simply because you are not being glorified enough in your own mind, starved for veneration and flatteries, I just won’t have time for you anymore.
Of course this note will no doubt impugn your own (what I consider inflated) sense of the Steve Taylor dignified air, but I have no other choice in this matter. I am paying the price of finally breaking free of my own brother's pathological narcissism, by simply calling him on it, and now he has hung up on me with little hope of near future reconciliation rather than admit that he does to me what he has often admitted he shamelessly does to others. Now in your case, you admit the problem, promise in a barrage of well-conceived rationalizations your intentions toward change, but it doesn't take a mental giant to realize that your psychosis is only getting worse, more manic, more difficult to dislodge, despite all your protestations to the contrary. Now I am admitting my own impotence in dealing with your insanities, but this impotence as I struggle to help trigger something inside you to bring your feet and your mind back to ground zero is eating me up inside. I can't handle it any more. Obviously you can, this is your life, but I can't. My own insanities are well-documented and well-known to me and all. But I have taken measures to exploit them, dabbling in art and keeping a home ordered and simplified according to my own level of dignity, and have been infinitely fortunate to have someone well-grounded enough to buffer me from the free fall of my own mind, and that person of course is my dear wife.

We have TRIED to be there for you, and I think the record is clear on this: we HAVE been there for you, but as stated above, my own immune system is shot. I can't handle your ongoing mania. I am not a disinterested therapist, or wetnurse being paid to let you vent while you just keep on keeping on, nor am I deeply interested in the fact that you are immensely proud of yourself for having made lemonade, or are forced to pause at the grocery store to count your new budgetary costs. And the fact that you go to great lengths to keep repeating these mundane details to everybody you meet or phone up, as if we are all supposed to be equally proud of these great strides you have taken to be normal, uh, we've all done these things too, Steve. Welcome to America. Gee whiz. Grow up, man, grow up!

And right now, the business at hand, real business, meaning money on my side of the ledger, is about all I’ve got to talk about with you. The black and white of commerce. Either rise to THIS challenge, OH YE SEEKER OF GREATER CHALLENGES, or else we are through, kaput, history. Silence is my only defense against the futile tornadoes of your personality.
We have passed that friendly fire stage I'm afraid. Do I call you up and ramble on about all the puny tribulations of my flower beds, kitchen detail, paint strokes, how many times I turn on and off the airconditioning knob just to be cool and act cool? Literary technique is one thing. Public monomaniacal thought cannibalism is something else. I just don't know HOW to deal with you anymore, and I'm not just gonna give up great chunks of my own marginally productive life just to hear the same nowhere noway jabber day after day. No approach I have taken in the past seems to work, to help snap you out of this manic hyperspazz orbit you love to detail over drink and telephone. Every approach simply feeds your own ego. If I applaud you, you puff up in great airs. If I criticize you, it's poor poor Steve being unduly judged. Frankly Steve, and I'm dead serious here (or haven't you noticed how I haven't been able to chat with you this week, the uncomfortable silences, the tense voices of dissention, and how I quit e-mailing you weeks before you flapped to paranoid extinction yet again in the cyberworld, long before the IAG thing shook us up?), so dead serious that if you do not experience some quieting epiphany that helps you either deal with your own demons, or expel them hither, I will soon have very little to say to you about anything. And right now, the business at hand, real business, meaning money on my side of the ledger, is about all I've got to talk about with you. The black and white of commerce. Either rise to THIS challenge, OH YE SEEKER OF GREATER CHALLENGES, or else we are through, kaput, history. Silence is my only defense against the futile tornadoes of your personality. Just as people talk about Jack, and Gabriel (or Ricky) as having squandered so much potential, so much talent in the pursuit of fantasy or bogus reality, so they will say it of Steve Taylor. This is IT Steve. The real McCoy. I am putting all my web design eggs in your basket. You are the last chance I am giving myself to make a business out of this technological niche I find myself quite comfortable in exploiting. In the short term, and in the long run, from this venture, my only lust is to modestly contribute to my own household income, to help ease my wife's financial burden. You however seek stellar portions of status, image, prestige, glory. I can't, or won't promise you those things, but I can promise you that together we can do a good job for anyone YOU sell us to. That's why it is up to you to make it or break it. Our operators are standing by to take your call. Ho ho ho! But Graphic Solutions Ink Systems is presenting the terms because grounded in reality is nine-tenths of what it takes to make it in the business of doing things for others. In the end we may part friends or enemies, but that end may be chuckling just around the corner because, sir, we DO have history, and sir, you DO have a reputation, and unless you can change the course of that rushing river of destruction you have become in sloshing over everything in your path simply because you are not being glorified enough in your own mind, starved for veneration and flatteries, I just won't have time for you anymore. Bottom line: it's time to get your hands dirty, Steve. Or else go to Hollywood. I understand they appreciate people like you a lot better than I capable of in the long run.

blindBy the way, just in case you can suck it up and put that damned ego of yours in your back pocket long enough to still want to do business with GSIS, I need that title you picked out for yourself. I have forgotten it, and will probably continue working up some promotional and legal papers today, so will want to slip it into all the right slots. I liked the ring of it when you mentioned it, but my brain was/is still fried from all this anxiety I feel as we struggle for positioning and protocol. I want to put all that basic behaviorial science shinola behind me, but I need your dedicated help, not your frenzy. There has to be some common ground for normalcy here, or else this big bird just won't fly.

If you would like to see a preliminary copy of the consulting agreement with SE Taylor/TMT that Sue and I worked up yesterday, drop me a note suggesting a new SET resolve in personal affairs, and an interest in me e-mailing the agreement to you. Let's not waste each other's time with anything less.

GT

P.S. Radix is having mail and newsgroup server problems. I have tried several times to send this, and will keep trying, but...well, finally at 3:30 PM, the Radix POP is working.

P.S.S. How did you like my first animated GIF I posted on iMote? Blind Taste Test. I thought it clever, have seen nothing like it, have you?

Originally posted on Mon May 26 15:38:17 1997

© 1997 - 2013, Gabriel Thy. All rights reserved.

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"Ignorance and virtue suck on the same straw. Souls grow on bones, but die beneath bankers' hours.""


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