Dear John

Well, I'm torn here. I'd like to let John Mayer drown in his self-obsession, and not enable him to continue the conversation he seems to be having with himself.

He's given an interview. It can be argued that he's given way too many interviews. Nevertheless, his verbal diarrhea continues. It's like he can't help it. And I alternate between thinking he's unhinged and feeling deeply, deeply sorry for his mom.

And I guess I feel a certain kinship, in a weird way. I, too, navel-gaze. I, too, talk a lot about what's going on in my head. Maybe I'm fooling myself that I have a better record than he of concluding something marginally smart and/or insightful at the end of it all. But if I ever sound like him, I hope like hell someone stops me.

I used to think that I'd talk to anyone about anything, so I've learned today that this is simply not so, not by a long shot. So, thanks, John Mayer, for that perspective on things.

Some facts:

~ He himself uses the word "douche" or "douche bag" about eight times in the interview.
~ He's even more hung up on his age (32) than he is about being a douche.
~ He confesses to sometimes seeing as many 300 vaginae before even getting out of bed, thanks to the miracle of online porn.
~ He doesn't seem to realize that the line "I spent hundreds and hundreds of dollars on therapy" translates to 2 sessions worth. He might want to give it another go. There's a difference between going to therapy and being in therapy.

So, I guess I sort of recommend reading the interview, if only so I don't feel so alone. And ooky.


All the best,

Jenny