Date: 2024-11-07 Pages: 203 My favourite teacher — who gifted a handmade notebook at Christmas, sent me a Bob Dylan reel I still haven't opened,[^1] and who I have tried to find a mimicry of in college — constantly re-iterated the frustratingly utile function of writers who consider things you're in the process of considering. In this sense, Kreider is frustratingly utile. In possibly the worst sentence — and admission on this blog — I will ever write: I think I'm attracted to a lot of people. The data doesn't follow the hypothesis one might have knowing this fact, and knowing me. For some reason, I don't really like anything that happens afterwards. Scientifically, this doesn't seem bizarre or unexplainable in my case. If, reductively, attraction is based on (a) finding someone's facial features somewhat pleasant to look at and (b) finding someone's personality somewhat interesting to interact with; you can imagine some problems of oversupply arise when I find the vast majority of people somewhat interesting to interact with[^2] and that I live in a young, wealthy[^3] college town. And so it goes. Kreider's autobiographical essays somewhat vindicated the absence of vacuous, meaningless physical interactions; it certainly vindicated this (I think somewhat human) tendency to enjoy the company of a bunch of people — primarily platonically, occasionally not platonically, very rarely reciprocally not platonically. Let me say more. The most cogent, interesting portions of the book are the discussions of what "intimacy" (quotes my own) actually signify. One essay discusses the (unexpectedly non-sexual, in his words) love Kreider felt for his students; another his marriage with his cat; my favourite a musing on polyamory and marriage that I'm not sure I can encapsulate as snappily. In short: labels of "love" and "romance" and "platonic" seem to imprecisely account for the wide range of things that can exist between 2(+) people; within 1 person; between 1+ person & 1+ object & 1+ animal, et cetera, et cetera. I suspect the same holds true in whatever personal phenomenon I'm trying to get across here. Or, I'm just unintentionally promiscuous — Kreider seems to be — in which case, the statistics aren't really matching the narrative. I was also vindicated, heartened, and nearly cried at how he wrote (phrase 0.5—phrase 2—phrase 3—phrase 0.5). I suppose that's enough reason to love Kreider & his work. Further proof of my emotional promiscuity. [^1]: I'm not sure why, actually. I don't really watch the reels most people send me; Bob Dylan should usually prove an exception, but now it's been a few weeks and I can no longer. [^2]: I think if you disagree, you're probably just wrong. Just this last week, I met a top 500 geoguesser player, listened to a sorority girl's reflections on her idyllic existence, and got a lesson in chivalry from a homeless man. [^3]: Not that wealth is inherently attractive.