I have two blogs I want to write, and I keep waffling on which to write first. I think I’m going to write the harder one.

Assessing information free from opinion is impossible. The whole idea that there is “information” is pretty screwy. The uncertainty principle is the only definite in this world, viewing information changes it.

Divorce brings this home, boy-o. If you think there is objective truth, try dismantling a marriage, even amicably. My parents have a mythology about one another that is thick as a rump roast, and my ex-wife and I have mythologies that are, y’know, flank steak thick, but there nevertheless.

I find myself having to assess information as if it were opinion in everything. Girls think I’m handsome, girls think I’m not handsome, for some reason they didn’t all get together and agree one way or the other. About half the people who saw Dirty Juanita loved it, about 95% of the people who saw Lucretia Jones loved it, but I love them both.

It’s important, I think, to continue to keep people close to you who seem to be working with a different set of facts. It’s important because it keeps you intellectually alert. I am fascinated by people who are in favor of the war in Iraq, I genuinely want to know why. When people hate the art I create, I am genuinely fascinated by why. Everything I do, I start out thinking it is a good idea, I want to have knowledge as broad as possible so I can make better decisions in the future.

At a certain point, though, these people become more work than they are worth. Especially if they make decisions before there are facts. Mac, who has twice been featured in festivals honoring women in the arts, was told for years that he was misogynist.

It is sort of sad when you realize that you just can’t listen to a person or a set of people. You strive and strive to maintain an open mind, but you can’t stay open to gaslighting. It isn’t necessarily that you are throwing pearls before swine, or anything that dramatic, but if you are listening to someone’s opinion of your art or your life, and they actually dislike you arbitrarily, then you have to decide it means nothing to you.


My first year at Carolina, I was sitting in a room talking with Mac and about ten of our friends. Everyone was talking about what a snob Jordana was, that she was transfering to a private school where people would understand her, that she thought she was so hot and smart. Mac, who knew her best, just laughed and said, “I don’t know what Jordana would say, I think she would be amazed that you guys are taking the time to even discuss her.”

And it’s true. Ian and I have never talked about this, but there has been a lot of calories burned talking about what a pair of shits we are. It’s just now occuring to me that these people might not be my friends.