Thomas Wictor

August 20, 2012, was not a good day. I learned that someone was not at all who I thought. It was genuinely horrifying because I discovered that I’d been dealing with an insane person. She’d hid her insanity relatively well, but as always, I denied the little signs that things were awry. In August of 2012, I was a different person than I am now. The year 2013 cured me forever of tolerating or having any relationship with predatory, destructive, unbalanced people.

While I was agonizing over this latest loss, I got an e-mail through Talkbass.com. If this person wrote to me today, I wouldn’t respond. But at the time, I hadn’t yet experienced 2013.

Here’s the e-mail I was sent. There was no name or salutation.

I was skimming through your thread up to post 184 and while I was reading a few of your stories, some names instantly popped into my head. [List of bassists' names]. If I am close, just twitch your nose *ahem* I would offer more guesses, but those are the only stories I had a chance to read.

My reply. I don’t know what I was trying to say. Being in mourning scrambles my brain. I think I meant “the fun of not using names,” but who knows?

The fun of not naming names that everyone can guess is that we all get what we 
want.

Cheers,
Tom

His next message.

I’ll take that as a yes then. Was that gothic girl band Kittie? I will look outside my window for smoke signals to see if I am correct

The overly familiar tone was an unmistakable warning. However, I ignored it. As usual.

By “can” I mean “are capable of doing so.” If I’d named names, you’d lose interest, the way we always do with tell-all books. I’ve neither confirmed nor denied. Ask Scott Thunes. He knows all. I don’t know Kittie. I’ll look them up on Youtube.

T.

He wrote back.

Oh please don’t put yourself through that, they’re terrible.

And I would absolutely love to talk to him if I had a way to break the ice. I love nothing more than to talk to interesting people… it’s why I sent you those silly and pointless emails. I might not be the most likable person in existence, but I am a devious little bastard



I really enjoy the way you tell your stories: you simply paint a picture of what happened, leaving the reader to come up with his/her own feelings on the subject. I respect that, as I seem to be allergic to overly contrived pieces that shove the writers own feeling down the reader’s throat. Just wanted you to know that.



And it would be rude of me to not introduce myself also. I come with many names given to me by many people, but I have come to have a fond place in my heart for “Mr. ________ the _________” (or Mr. ________ for short.. I’m nothing if not sensibly asinine). I know it’s silly stage name of mine given by a dear friend, but even Bruce Wayne must get a kick (somewhere in his deep-scarred psyche) out of being called Batman.

His “stage name” was beyond moronic. And “I come with many names” just reminded me of Legion. The increasingly sinister and tedious nature of the messages—after the day I’d had—was giving me a migraine. But this was my fault for engaging. I tried to politely back out.

Just send Scott a message on Talkbass. He probably won’t respond, since he hardly ever responds to anyone, but what can it hurt? Tell him I said hi.

T.

My attempt at a graceful exit was not perceived.

He doesn’t accept pm’s unfortunately. Such a pity since I’m sure he would absolutely despise me, and I can never stray from a good chance at a clever, self-depreciating story about people I meet to tell at parties. Then again I never get invited to parties because getting said stories makes me a lot of enemies… such is life though.

You know you would be the absolute perfect person to write a bio or something about my band, but I have no songs and every musician I meet is a horrible flake so that would be a pointless gesture. I’ll keep you in mind in the future for when I have a need for the bio and also want to make you roll your eyes at me.

Speaking of which, I have a funny story about that: I once tried to get put into the Guinness book of world records for having the most people roll their eyes at me and tell me to shove off. But then they did just that to me, and I was strangely pleased with myself.

All kidding aside, I wouldn’t be so down on yourself. The great Sensei Thunes might know a lot, but you sure as hell seem to know a lot too.

He liked being obnoxious, but since he complimented me, I felt obliged to reply. Also, sending people links to videos usually makes them shut up. No idea why.

You’re trying too hard. If you read my memoir, you’ll see that I’m actually not down on myself at all. I’m precisely where I’ve always wanted to be, except with no money. But I don’t need money, so I’m precisely where I’ve always wanted to be.

Listen to this and admire the bass. The bugle is spectacular. I mentioned this song in my memoir.

And then listen to the best Moloko song ever written. That ought to do.

Though he tried to be as irritating as possible, he didn’t like to be called on it.

Those songs are far from my taste, but thank you for showing me them. I appreciate you taking the time to share something with me. And trying too hard? I’m not trying at all, I’m just being myself. So very sorry for annoying you.

Now my pathological need to reach people kicked in. The year 2013 taught me why I had that need, but on August 20, 2012, I still didn’t really know.

Not annoyed. Takes a lot more to annoy me. I meant it as unsolicited advice, which is worth what you paid for it. My own taste encompasses pretty much everything, as long as it’s good.

 Gil Mellé wrote this piece in 20 minutes. The change 30 seconds into it is astounding.

His response.

That’s not bad. I would mention that the unassuming melody of the whistling truly gives the change to the orchestral “ok, we’re serious guys, please believe us” piece a lot of needed weight, but I hate those types of conversations.

 And how was I trying too hard anyways?

I’d just learned that someone I cared about actually hated me, was completely off her rocker, and lived in a hell of her own making. The shock of that impaired my judgment, not the best even on good days.

The “I really love annoying people” shtick and “I’m not the most likable person in existence” shtick is pretty tiresome. It puts the person receiving it in an untenable situation. It’s a turnoff, because it’s a form of game playing. Older folks like me lose patience with games.

You obviously don’t want to be annoying and don’t like being unlikeable, so change. It’s hard, but it’s better to be a fully actualized person than a gnat that makes people roll their eyes. What could anyone possibly get out of that? Nothing. So it ain’t true. Ergo, you’re trying too hard to just be you, and that’s always doomed to fail. You can’t try to be you; you can only be you.

I find it highly doubtful that you really want to set a record for getting people to roll their eyes. You could do that by just breaking wind. Where’s the sense of accomplishment? How about accomplishing something positive? It’s harder, but it’s a lot more interesting.

Now, I’m off to bed. Take care.

T.

He let the mask drop, precisely the way the other person had earlier in the day.

I wrote a long reply to your message, but I have decided not to send it. It is not worth the stress of starting a fight. I will continue to show you some respect, even if I am annoying and I don’t accomplish anything by how I act

The thing you don’t understand is I was just treating you like a friend, I do it to everyone I meet. I was joking around, I am not a serious person. Everything I say is with my tongue firmly planted in my cheek. Life is too short to be at all serious, and I have first hand experience on how short mine is specifically. How you missed I was just being silly is beyond me to judge.

The fact that I am fake to you and that I am a “gnat” to you insults me. I meet people like you sometimes, that take my well-meaning nature the wrong way and hate me for it… but I try to be the better man. You may not like the way I am, but don’t you dare think I am going to let someone like you imply that I am just some pissant idiot who’s trying too hard to act a certain way. Who do you dare think you are, the neurotic self-hating artist who (it seems) has bottled up every genuine emotion he has had until recently, to decide who is “fake” and who isn’t.

I am what I am, and if you don’t like it, that’s fine. I do respect you, but don’t you think for one second that means I will let you disrespect me. As Scott said, and I quote completely seriously: “De gustibus non est disputandum [In matters of taste, there can be no disputes], bitch.”

We are somewhat alike and I picked up on that, but I made a mistake: you aren’t my friend. I learn from my mistakes, don’t expect me to make it again with you.

That said, I have no hard feelings at all toward you, hopefully you can grow to do the same. Hell, I may even invite you to a show of mine one day if I ever have one. Good night, good day, good bye.

But just to be silly, here is a song:

Take the hint. We will both be better for it in the end if we just stop sending each other messages.



P.S. Just FYI, that last bit was meant to make you laugh. Don’t be so 
serious.

Since he’d asked me to not answer, I didn’t. However, when he suggested that “we” stop sending each other messages, he didn’t include himself. Or maybe most of his many names ended our exchange, but one refused to comply with his request. For whatever reason, another e-mail soon followed.

After some hard thinking I have come to the conclusion that you would not just leave it at that and would possibly try to start something. For this I have blacklisted your email to avoid further conflict.

I have a very stressful life and I have a propensity to get sick with serious illnesses often, so I try to keep as positive as my situation allows me. This means being silly, being lighthearted, making jokes, not taking things seriously (however, I’m always honest and genuine), and being one of those dirty optimists as far as most things I can allow my self to be positive about.



I know you don’t like how I act and I know you don’t respond to how I act well, so I am forcing upon us a situation where we will not be able to talk to eachother. I’m not sorry for doing it, and I’m sure as hell not sorry for who I am no matter how hard you want me to be. Like I said, I made a mistake, and with this I am ensuring *I will not make it again.*

But as I said before, I have no hard feelings, I’m just being honest. I know you may think of me as being incapable of such, but I don’t care. I don’t care one bit.

I know you apparently don’t like to “play games,” so even if you don’t respect me as a person, you damn well better respect me putting my foot down after you have insulted me.

Farewell.

Yes, I wanted to try starting my new life without him in it. I thanked God that he was finally gone. Except he wasn’t. Ding went my e-mail inbox again.

That said, I’m sorry if it seemed I was reacting very harshly. I was really just being straightforward and honest… as deadpan and earnest as I could muster.

I know emotions don’t get through in the type and maybe that is why you responded the way you did but you have to understand that I pride myself on being 100% honest and genuine no matter the cost. To have you go on like that just set me off, and it took every ounce of my strength to make everything as civil as I managed.



I just had to get that off my chest what I said is nothing personal. I also don’t expect an apology (one because I figure you aren’t the type and two because I can’t receive your emails :X ).

Wish you all the best though.

Haven’t heard from him again, which is good. What I need he and everyone like him to understand is that I’ve reached the end of my endurance. I’ve done my part in trying to help people who won’t be helped. For fifty-one years it was my leitmotif. I’ve finally and irrevocably grasped that some people are volitionally terminal and must be written off. My new motto is, “I AM sorry but go away.”

Doleo sed vade.

It’s awful when I have to categorize someone as nonviable. But I’m going to do it anyway. It’s now a matter of survival.

And there’s a crazy, grinning, long-haired, naked woman with four sets of breasts—one on top of the other—in my bathroom floor.