June 21, 2017 § Leave a comment

horse-desert-water

I have been living with one foot out the door—dangerous psychologically, even for situations that you know will not last (driving a van up and down the city, learning a particular trade—I have already learned all I want to learn about rugs). What do I need to do? Probably I need to slow down, and meditate, and reduce my commitments. Do I want to meet C on Saturday, even briefly? What would be accomplished by doing that? It’s good to be friends with someone you have loved but not if their expectations are unreasonable or if they are used to having their unrealistic expectations met.

(I’m not sure this is happening or in danger of happening; expectations can sometimes arise implicitly where there is need, and dissipate with its dissolution.)

Two weeks ago I felt like I was living without desire, I wondered what it meant to be a person without it. Friday and Monday as I drove across the city all I could think of was H’s open mouth pressing against mine. I wished that more engaging things were happening on the radio so that I could drown it out, I was worried that I was investing too much psychic energy into someone I had only met a handful of times.

That might still be the case, but I like everything that has happened so far. My therapist wants me to date more generally, to “have fun.” It is implied this is what I should be doing. Not only do not know how to do that, it stresses me out. I don’t like doing it. I don’t want to. I have done enough of it. I know what I like and don’t like. As long as I keep that in mind, as long as I maintain myself and don’t shirk my responsibilities…

As long as I follow my desire and am honest about it. As long as I take the time to learn and to listen and to be open and engaged… As long as I remember to decide for myself.

I haven’t had much difficulty remembering.

It worries me, though, how cavalier I have been. I can make the mistake of wanting too many things. 

June 13, 2017 § Leave a comment

fabric-knots-space-air

It’s strange that I don’t want to write. I feel totally blank, like I have been wiped clean. All I want to do is lie on my bed with the fan going, watching the hanging pothos wave in the breeze. All I want to do is come home from work and sit at the kitchen table watching YouTube videos on my phone. To do my chores to podcasts. To talk to friends, or not to talk to them exactly but to make time for them, though I also feel like I don’t have as much time for them as I’d like…

Right now I don’t know who I am or what I’m making time for. In this mood I feel as light and empty as a breeze. I am someone who likes to work, to push themselves, to feel accomplishment. I need that to feel like I’m who I am. But instead I’m floating along, aimlessly, wondering when my feet are going to again touch the ground.

June 10, 2017 § Leave a comment

 

What do you know about desire?

June 9, 2017 § Leave a comment

octopus-ceramic-blue.jpg

Tension between wanting to write things of value and keeping this blog as regularly updated as possible, both because of the usefulness of practice and habit to changing emotional and intellectual patterns, but also because it is better to build a record than not; even an incomplete, limited, and less polished one.

I have been reading Augustine. You, the joy I was so slow to hear, said nothing as I ranged father out from you—I, loftily downfallen, actively paralyzed, sowing arid and ever more arid sadnesses. Good to feel, suddenly, on the subway, like you want to burst into tears, or like tears are constantly on the verge of coming, like you are opening up.

June 8, 2017 § Leave a comment

car-cutout-forest.jpg

Today I watched two teenagers at Bickford park move their limbs in slow exaggeration from one hundred paces, then collapse into an enormous hug. “Hey! Do you want to slow motion run towards each other?” “Ya.”

If I hadn’t seen it, it would have seemed like a dream. Not like something teenagers do—I assume they’re too much like us, only somehow more: violent, a heightened fever. It’s easy to forget your own capacity for openness and play.

June 7, 2017 § Leave a comment

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Trying not to fuck up. Trying to get some rest. I am missing a gala.

Galas are cheap. 

Yesterday was my day off and I felt so weak that the idea of doing the dishes felt impossible… Later I felt better, slightly, and after doing the dishes I walked to the bike shop and got Dave to look at the bike I’d left parked outside on Sunday. Did I purchase a lemon or did I just neglect general tune-up? It’s the latter. When I brought the bike to the other shop in 2015 they told me I didn’t need regular maintenance, but of course I did. “It looks like you might have worn out the threads. Let’s hope you didn’t.”

This morning I texted someone I was excited to see, but long after we last talked. So far, nothing. I thought I needed time. In retrospect, I didn’t. Expensive mistakes.

June 6, 2017 § Leave a comment

night-coke-machine.jpg

Fever. Dreams of 17 ft tall Jared Kushner and Ivanka Trump circling a walled compound they could scale at any moment (Attack of the Titans). Alien implantation—a disc has been inserted somewhere underneath my flesh. First test involved a slice of sausage pizza, expertly cut (“But won’t it mould in my body?”).

I need to engage with more media that portrays conflict.