The Faceless Man

 

Do you ever have the desire to simply say to yourself person x who I am trying get the attention of will never give it so why not simply tell them what you really think of them? The problem with this kind of conviction lies in the fact that what you think you think may not be what you really think of them. The monster you have created in your mind is a confabulation, a mysterious mutant born between the amygdala and pre-frontal cortex. In fact the individual onto whom you have projected all your ire is the one who should be angry. Not once have you asked yourself who they are and what their particular existence is about. Their sole function in your life is to provide the validation you crave. You are like the homeless person who takes money then moves onto their next mark. Have you, for instance, ever been confronted by someone who asks you for money on the street and has forgotten you just gave them a nickel? To them you are faceless. Similarly all those unforthcoming people who are the subjects of your obsessions are faceless maggots to you.

read "Pet Buddha" by Francis Levy, Vol. 1 Brooklyn

listen to James Brown and Luciano Pavarotti singing "It's a Man's World"

and listen to "I Love to Love (But My Baby Just Wants to Dance)" by Tina Charles (1975)

and listen to "Band of Gold" by Freda Payne with Belinda Carlisle

and listen to "Twenty-Five Miles From Home" by Edwin Starr