My dark side loves Ping-Pong. It laughs when my opponent misses a ball.
My laugh is the kind of laugh that witches screech in horror movies. They would’ve burned me at the stake with this laugh five-hundred years ago.
When there is a group of us, as it happens in family vacations and such, this dark energy takes on an even bigger form. I turn into Mr. Hyde. Darth has nothing on me.
My step-children or my god-children, yes I don’t have children of my own which as you will see is a good thing, will say things like: Claaau - Diaaa! You are sooo mean!
To which I reply: Oh yeah! Hee HEE! Sometimes I even surprise myself at how evil I sound.
The adults around me probably find me silly, not quite stupid, but border-line.
You lose! My Point! HA HA! Nooo! Why!? My point again! Those are things I scream while playing an 11-12 or 14 year old. I’m adorable.
Thank God I can blame it on the shadow. Reading Carl Jung has proven immensely satisfying. Ping-Pong is the channel through which I get it out into the light. It is so clear now.
A few weeks ago two businessmen came to meet with James.
One of them, Aaron, said in a previous email that he liked ping-pong, but he never made it clear he was a pro. This is very un-becoming. I hope Aaron reads this. He needs to think about this. He has ‘issues’ and should read Jung.
We met at SPIN, Susan Sarandon’s place, as you know. James sat at the table with the other guy while Aaron was doing friendly pre-ping pong chitchat.
|SPIN in NYC, heaven|
But I was not listening to any of that. I was getting my hair up, my proper shoes on. And just like that, it was face time. Aaron and me.
Within three shots I knew what was happening. I was scared.
Not only will I not impress anyone as I am used to when playing people 30-years younger than me, I will lose.
Death is imminent.
Aaron offers tips: “Find my weak spot”. Shadow turns into the Hulk. “When I serve just focus on returning”. Hulk goes nuclear.
The sight of James, who is condescendingly cheering for me, reminds me this is a business meeting.
I don’t care about business anymore. I don’t care about James. I don’t care about anything.
I’m 3 games down. Three. Nobody plays for four out of seven! That is unheard of.
I hand the racquet to James. Destroy him. No. Kill him, I say.
|James grew up with a ping pong table in HIS HOUSE|
Aaron sent me an email 3 days ago. “Still the king of pong” he signed. He needs therapy.
I’m going to go beat my stepdaughter in tennis now. So I can feel good again. About myself.
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