Parga 2.

After an early beer, 2 Blue Bar cocktails, 3 ouzos, 2 retzinas and a brandy on my side Mothermouse and me talk about masculinity. Masculinity is bull headedness. Women name call it that like it’s a failing but that’s what it is. Some men are quiet and go about it in secret and others it’s just written on them. Some have it knocked out of them and avoid snapping a twig and others have it knocked into them and knock down a forest. A few talk about their feelings in a feminine sort of way which is pleasing to females, at least at first, but make no mistake, men are bull headed whatever the covering. It runs like root sap up into our branches. It seems to me our brains have far less room for controversy. We don’t have the capacity to flurry through conflicting confusions like women. A stick is a stick and its use is dependant on the situation. Faced with a confusion of feelings my brain blinks to a white spot like when you turn off the TV. Thread thoughts in a neat line like meat on a kebab skewer and I’m fine. But it’s a terrible misconception that men don’t have feelings. We do, we just don’t do it with confusion that needs talking about. We have a feeling and that’s it and talk about something else. Like music; you hear it till the song is over. But then it must be frustrating, like being with someone listening to their iPod with the only clue as to the song being how they tap their foot. We must work on it.