And I immediately knew he was astonishing because, after this phone call with Rubin and with Menello, where I spent, I don't know, three hours talking to the guy, I realized that he was an unbelievable resource, as well as, by the way, a very good person — I mean, a very sweet person.
Over the next week, as I dove into being the 'cancer guy', I realized that this wasn't a delusion, BS, or denial.
Passing the "werewolves" guy I realized that our cars, more than just about anything, are our Nametags -- the image that we want to present to the world.
What we consider "attractive" mutates very often (I used to like skinny, pasty, British-y guys until I realized that they won't hit you in the face when you ask them to) and currently the winners of Getting Sex are fucking filthy.
Pauline Kael, very young herself and years away from a critical career, happened to come late to the play one evening and recalled that she averted her eyes, in embarrassment, from what appeared to be a man having a seizure onstage: it wasn't until her companion "grabbed my arm and said 'Watch this guy!' that I realized he was acting".
As soon as this fellow named @dudecati started chatting me in generic tough guy-isms, I realized that whole thing was definitely a sham.
Run!" I jumped out of the car and there was this weird moment where I was thinking, "Should I stay and try to help these guys?" But then I realized, "No way!
Just talking with the guy and I realize now that's all it was.
KW: I used to think that the progress of mankind toward a good and honest and livable, survivable world where people were decent to each other was a progress bar that was going forty-five degrees up the graph permanently when I was a young guy, and I realize now that that wasn't quite right.
At first I thought it was tough guy talk, but then I realized he was trying — the best he could — to be honest about some feelings he had, feelings that scared him.
