"What I mean is, where before I would have striven to grip the meaning of what you were saying, and would have fretted over whether what I understood and what you meant were the same, now I just listen. I’m resigned to the effect of this sort of abyss that swallows your words and spits them out on my monitor and vice versa. It’s almost like sending each other an endless series of inkblots. But that understates my interest in what gets said. As you’ve surely noticed, I hang on every word you say. And I freak out every now and then and have to hear your voice or see you. That’s when I’m pissed off at the abyss and I need to narrow it. But one thing I hear every time you say or write anything to me is: ‘I want you to hear this.’ And it’s louder or softer in proportion to how much zeal or effort is apparent in what you say. So that’s how I get past the contradictions (or swallow them). I’m not reading for sincerity, I’m reading for what went into writing or saying it. Because it seems profound to me that a person with such bleak views as you could ever think, ‘I want you to hear this.’"