I’ve been developing the idea of what my nemesis would be like.
Here and there I run across someone in person or in print that I think would make a good candidate for my nemesis. My nemesis has to be someone that I respect and think is smart, otherwise there’s no use. But there has to be something about this person that I find a little spine-tinglingly wrong, a little magnetically repulsive, something that leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
I can tell you this about my nemesis. My nemesis is a cynic. My nemesis embraces cynicism not as a last resort, but curls toward it instinctively, like strange dark light. Other avenues have not been exhausted. Oh, Nemesis.
And I can tell you this: My nemesis is trapped in the web of his or her own extensive, intricate intelligence. It’s like a cloud of wires that leads the thinker in gorgeous, stylish circles. My nemesis chases his or her own intelligence like a preening animal playing with its tail. It’s a pyrotechnic intelligence with very little living, warm wisdom in it. Nemesis, Nemesis.
Also, my nemesis appreciates the fewest possible things, most of which are of brutally exquisite quality, with a few specially chosen “lowbrow” items on the list, for spice. My nemesis goes through life assessing things, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, ugh no, no, mmm, maybe, no, NO.”
The charitable muscle in my nemesis has atrophied, so it's easier for my nemesis not to use it. Impressive brain, unimpressive heart, Nemesis!
*edit: My nemesis also has animal-like ears of two different sizes and shapes.
I don’t actually want a nemesis. Lord, no! I can think of few things more stressful than actually having a nemesis! I’m so bad with actual conflict. My heart would be racing all the time, I’d be sputtering in the shower with all the imaginary confrontations with the Nemesis, I wouldn’t sleep well. I’m not someone who can have a nice robust fight and let it go. Confrontation works in me like Ebola, I’m not proud to say. I’ve really had to buck up my ability to disagree in person. I can do it, and I do do it, but I don’t ever love it.
But they’re out there, the...nemesis-al candidates. They're out there, and they're freaking me out.
Tell me about your nemesis, blogosphere.