Berkeley's Hate Man
Lochel, also known as Atari, asked what to call me. Last time we met, I told him, "Right Seat," the copilot's seat. This time I said, "Devolution."
I was with Emily and Jason at La Note, and as if that wasn't magical and special enough, the end of the meal (on the patio, no less) was graced by the arrival of the Hate Man. He won't recognize your speech until you say, "I hate you." And you can't qualify it, either. "I hate you, not really," does not cut the mustard.
Emily, she said, "But I don't hate you," and Atari said, "If I was President Bush standing here, could you say it, could you say you hate me?" Oh yeah, Emily said forcefully, "I HATE YOU." And that was enough.
Lochel spoke of keeping both the negative and positive alive, on two separate channels, "I don't like the hairs you leave in the soap, but hey I also love you man for being my brother, or whatever."
Emily was so glowing glad to meet the Hate Man. I think she needed him. I needed him when I met him last February. Ironically, people generally like the Hate Man. I gave him a few books, which due to their subject nature, tickled his Hate Man fancy.
The Hate Man: Just as good the second time!