How I've Missed You
From a dream.
(Digital)
I am currently working doggedly on multiple, slightly adjacent, existential crises.
The world.
As an historian, I’m inoculated against the belief that this is the worst time in history, but that doesn’t mean I’m having a good time. I do get the occasional dopamine rush when people who spent most of my youth telling me to be more positive whine to me about how everyone is evil and stupid. A couple days ago my mother asked me if there’s any hope, which I choose to believe vindicates me wholly. This new appreciation everyone seems to have recently developed for not just facing reality, but asking me about it, is a treat I’m trying not to take for granted.
2. Art
Every artist is obligated to freak the fuck out every now and again. It’s in the contract written on our bones: “must succumb to the melodrama.” My favorite case was Modigliani, burning his shit on his lawn. For me, this crisis always looks the same: frustration, despair, determined abandonment, reconciliation with reality, begrudging acceptance of calling, resumption of artly duties. I don’t have a choice.
3. Humans
I don’t know what it is about my mind that wedges a slice of glass between me and the rest of the world, but it’s been there most of my life and I doubt it’s going anywhere. I have come to the point of basic acceptance of this fact that includes respect for other human needs and my own proclivities. I am curious about people and fond of them; I like to help them. There are some that I love. But I do not really feel in the world with them for any but the most fleeting moments.
I am much better at feelings and purpose and meaning when I’m dreaming. It’s a world that makes sense to me. Sometimes I get to see my dead friends and tell them I love them. That feels more relevant, right now, than any of my personal worldly concerns.