I rebel: therefore we exist

I love this statement which is made and analyzed by Albert Camus. It means, that we can only really rebel, if others have set or you have internalized a set of social norms and there is something to go against.
I am a rebel without a cause by nature. I don’t give a fiddler’s fuck what people think is normal, or acceptable and due to my lack of interest in the subject of normal behavior, I very often find myself outside of the social norm.
More specifically, because I am a writer, and I choose to write about the human condition, I have a tendency to notice everything about people. Recently, I learned that this careful watching and taking in, is in all probability an invasion of privacy. I had not thought of it as such, which is ironic, since I simply take these quirks and isolate them, evaluate them, put them in different situations and mash them all together with other interesting characteristics thereby stealing them from their owners for my own ends.
I don’t know why I never saw this as an invasion before now! I might steal your eyes! I might steal the way that you tilt your head, your laugh, or the particular way that you wear clothing. If you are not careful when you are with me, I could steal your intentions, your eyelashes, your thoughts on Capitol Punishment or maybe even your sexual experience, if you shared pieces of it with me.
I warn you now that a writer is a risky friend! You better look around carefully and take a good inventory when they have left you! The writer has no self control! No pride at all! You just never know what they have taken of yours and you may never know until you crack their books and find your lost self there in black and white for all the world to see!

Bojangles

Recently, I found the voice of Nina Simone and more specifically I found her rendition of the old Jerry Jeff Walker song, Mr. Bojangles. Her sweet sad melodious voice reminds how fortunate my life is.
I forget this from time to time even as I pass the beggars who sit outside the the stores where I shop.
Even though, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end when they approach me.
I know if ever I was stuck in a cell with Mr. Bojangles, I would be to terrified of him.
Terrified of not just of him but also of what he represents.
I could not see him in the way that Jerry Jeff has and certainly not in the way that Nina Simone interprets him – a sweet, sad, melodious man to which life has offered up more than he can handle.
I don’t know what I fear.
It could be that he has rejected all the social norms of food and shelter.
It could be that I am afraid that he has been a victim and that he might in turn victimize me.
But I think, what really scares me is the fear that at any moment status can be lost and I am irrationally afraid that his lack of status may very well be contagious.
I am afraid it may be my turn next.
Yes, I think what I most fear, is that, I am only so lucky – and so safe – and that indeed I am to be the next Bojangles.