The above sketch may in reality be a life drawing of Crash and Jwer (but which is which, you say?), but it also illustrates this week’s theme of stalking. In this case, I am the stalkee, prey for the chupacabra in the shape of . . . well I don’t know what shape it’s in because I’ve only spoken to it on the phone, but it is coming. My question is, why do people who don’t even know you feel as if they have some sort of ownership over you, just because they like something you have done? I suppose celebrities get this all the time, which is why we get incidents where vile women claim they’re going to be sick when they discover that Justin Timberlake is gay and can therefore no longer be their sweet and thoughtful boyfriend who takes their virginity in a meadow. I am obviously no celebrity; with me, it is people who come into my place of business, fall in love with it, and decide that along with the trinket they have just purchased, they also have a claim on eternal rights to my life.

Now, I am perfectly thrilled that people like my business, and it’s not as if I’m without other fabulous powers, as well. Por exjemplo, who else can iron a pillowcase with the power of his mind?

Yes, those preternaturally smooth linens are thanks to the power of my mind . . . and the power of Photoshop. What were you expecting? It takes me ninety minutes to iron a shirt, and even then, I’ve ironed permanent wrinkles into it. But I have not allowed that handicap to hold me back from magnificence.

I may be pretty darned great, but does that mean that you can launch a campaign of terror aimed at “giving me ideas” for my business (a.k.a. trying to sell me something) or “looking for ways we can work together” (a.k.a. trying to glom onto the action now that I have done all the hard work)? Good lord, you bought a bar of soap, not the deed to my soul. If I don’t know you, I’m not going to sit down with you for a cup of tea because you want to hear my life story (a.k.a. get bored to death) and find ways to exploit me for your own gain. Here’s the real scoop: not only do I not have two nickels to rub together, I live and work within five minutes of some of my best friends in the world, and I don’t even have time to see them.

If I have inspired anyone by what I’m doing, I’m genuinely glad. I do not, after all, toil day in and day out with the goal of disgusting people; I want to make a difference in people’s lives and in the world. But other people have done things like what I am doing and not had a parade of yahoos and lunatics on their doorstep every day, all thinking that personal interaction with them is the answer to their self-centered prayers. I’m willing to bet that the person who started Pottery Barn is not afraid to answer the phone or check his email.

I guess what it comes down to is that, if what I am doing has inspired you to do something new in your work or made a difference in your life, that’s great. Go and enjoy your work and your life on this new level, and leave me alone to enjoy mine.

I should add, as an aside to the Universe, that this is not meant to seem ungrateful for the good stuff that has happened and the countless genuinely good and interesting people I have met through the running of my business. I aim this rant at the very few vampires who have decided that all of the banging and thumps and crashes of my hard work are actually the gentle knocking of opportunity on their own front doors. These are the chupacabrae whose persistence has been unflagging in the face of repeated objection and rejection, thereby causing me to pretend I am not where I actually am or to go sneaking down alleys in a mad attempts to avoid them. They won’t recognize themselves in these descriptions because they think they are beneficent angels who spread only good cheer and awe at their perspicacity. Therefore, the crankier and more resistant I get, the stronger they come on, thinking that I need them that much more. I would write them off as the dark underbelly of success, except I am not yet a success; what has me so resentful is that, if my time and life keep falling prey to these people, I will never be.

Update: Does any of this actually make sense, or do I just sound arrogant and ungrateful?