During the trip to Austria I occasionally heard myself talking…  It’s something I don’t often do.  When you are an inveterate bullshitter you quickly learn to defensively tune out your own voice.  Sometimes I should listen, because when I’m really comfortable (i.e. with Deb) the filter drops and I speak exactly what is on my mind.

The problem is that I’d describe my emotional range as rather stunted.  Occasionally I experience boredom, contentment, and lust…   but like the Eskimos and their 100 different words for snow (apocryphal) most of the time I’m feeling one of 100 different types of angry.  I can normally transmute this anger into something external that is a bitmore pleasant.  But when I’m “speaking my mind”, it’s often dark, sometimes mean, and generally salty.   Too often (honestly, more than once is too often) I catch myself speaking to Deb in a tone that I’d never use with anyone else.  This makes me…  well, angry.   I’m always pointing out the widespread lack of respect that my fellow humans show each other… and then I turn around and don’t show any to the only person who really matters.  Luckily Deb is a bit broken too…  She just accepts her daily ration of shit, with little or no complaint.  I should probaby have her carry a cattle prod or similar behavior modification tool with her to help “remind” me when I forget who I’m talking to.

This isn’t meant to be a confession; just some observations on the dangers of familiarity.