My grandfather once told me that the factories paint some cars red and some green for a reason. They’re functionally identical, but there are people out there who won’t be caught dead in a green car, and vice-versa, for no intellectually-justifiable reason at all.
In other words, there just ain’t no accounting for taste; people like what they like, and they themselves often don’t understand why. Me, I lean about 90% towards the “grind 'em up” end of the spectrum, and usually can’t even maintain interest in material that doesn’t go there. Then, you also have to consider that in Real Life I’ve–
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Had a large knife held to my throat by a madman
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Watched a fireman weep his eyes out just after failing to talk a young woman out of jumping from a very nasty bridge.
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Had a coworker earnestly explain to me that if he brought a gun to work, I’d be fine. Just walk out out quietly, he said. I was one of the few he wasn’t in the least angry with.
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Had another coworker give me what was meant to be her last message on earth after taking a bottle of pills. And then was yelled at by a supervisor immediately after for shutting down production so that I could hear her slurred words over a static-filled line while trying to persuade her to call an ambulance. (He got the biggest earful I’ve ever given anyone in my life. I nearly attacked him.)
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Was kidnapped at the age of four-- there was a high-speed chase, shots were fired, and I remember it.
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Listened to an eleven year old boy beg for his mother after being soaked with gasoline and deliberately lit on fire by a “friend”.
After living through all this stuff-- and considerably more I’m not going into-- well… Boyfriend problems and the like seem pretty tame nowadays. Indeed, “lightweight” stuff has great difficulty (unless exceptionally well-written) even holding my attention anymore. I haven’t been able to sit through a thirty-minute sit-com in decades without grimacing and wriggling in my seat, and it’s no wonder that my fave films include The Godfather, Apocalypse Now, and The Cowboys. What I write tends to be even darker than those.
This isn’t to say that I think my tortured tastes are in any way superior. Just that I’ve led an “interesting” life, and it shouldn’t surprise anyone that the scarring shows. Stephen King, I understand, has led an “interesting” life as well. Red cars for some, green for others. It takes all kinds to make a world.