An Attempt to Scratch A Verbal Itch With Philosophy, Design, Storytelling, and Whiskey Musings. Here's to the The Reflection and Refraction of My Preoccupied Youth.
When I was out for drinks with a few friends, there was this girl that kept hitting on me. It was my friend’s birthday, so I really wasn’t interested. Her demeanor and drunken persistence was starting to bug me, but only because I had politely told her I’m not in the market. Her friends were cheering her on, which made the situation even more irritating. After about the fifth time of her infiltrating my group, I turned and told her that I wouldn’t be able to please her. Her eyebrow raised with a smile, and she said “How do you know?” I stared at her blankly, with no heart left in me and said “Because I don’t give a fuck about you.
I really didn’t want to say it. I wasn’t nice then. Probably could be nicer now.
I know lots of dumb, idealistic, and rambunctiously escapist young-folk like to subscribe to the whole “no regrets” fantasy. But it’s good to regret at least the moments in our lives that we we’re cruel or unfair to those that didn’t quite deserve it. While I may be quite the insensitive character, it doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad for sharpening my words in ways that were intended to hurt. I wish anyone unfairly cracked by me the best in their search for belonging and happiness.
From now on, I’m going to refer to every woman I interact with as “Margaret.” This includes close friends, the mom, the sister, ex girlfriends, and the like. I’ll make it appear as if it was an accident, in a way that’ll imply that I do in fact know a “Margaret.” But little will you know, I don’t know any “Margaret”s. But to everyone else, this “Margaret” character will become this weird enigma that everyone’s afraid to inquire about.
Here’s what the gossip will sound like:
"He’s keeps accidentally calling be ‘Margaret.’ At first it happened once in a blue moon, but soon it began happening more frequently. It’s weird"
"You too? OH MY GOD he’s been doing the same with me. Who the fuck is this Margaret anyways?"
"No clue. But I think we both know it’s pretty obvious he’s been spending a lot of time with her"
"That’s for sure."
"What if…she’s like an 80 year old grandma or something? That would explain why he doesn’t bring her around"
"God, Jerry is so weird. He’s probably into that kind of thing"
"Why are we even friends with him?"
My dealings in life and in this world are with the abstract. Simplicity is just a treat; an occasional dessert I give myself if a deal I make with this ambiguous world goes smoothly.
I need to get in a fight.
The amount I think about myself might as well not exist in comparison to how much I think about everyone else. Although lately, I’ve realized that caring less about others has allowed me to grow in ways not achievable with selflessness.
My mind is -aside from a place to make music, art, and solve problems - a carousel of people. There’s gotta be hundreds, ranging from my closest friends and family to strangers I met for 5 minutes 10 years ago. Friends I’ve lost either by fault, distance, change, or mystery. Everyone down to the solitary pedestrians I see smiling and enjoying themselves without iPhones, that girl in a gorgeous dress I saw last year who seemed like she just escaped the worst date of her life, the little Asian kid that followed me around a grocery store once, my Nigerian friend Franklin who I’ve never made contact with on the internet or phone in the 4 years I’ve known him, all the one-night stands, and the many brief, meaningful, and final interactions I’ve had with strangers in the past that I wished turned into friendships.
I hope everyone turns out okay.
An excerpt from “Same Body, Different Lives ” / An old Journal I dedicated to my quiet and debilitating anger towards the fact that people come and go, and the good times you’re having right now won’t last. I’ve since moved on from this childish attitude, so unattached to the idea of making anything or anyone last that it’s a wonder people see me as the caring person I am.
But there’s friction between the redundancy of reality and the impossible cravings of my soul. I’m living life as a cold, insensitive pragmatist while every cell in my body is absorbing my experiences with people in hopes that those moments will last forever.
If anything, I’m as transient and elusive as people get. This is why I have the insatiable desire for my moments with friends and lovers to last. I love experiencing a person, watching them be them when we’re together. I love experiencing what knowing a person can do to you. I miss actually WANTING to see people, I miss the vulnerability of love. I miss it all. But in my current form, I don’t want to see people. I’m not interested enough in my own emotions to really feel much for anyone. It’s become harder to care about people these days. My sex life and inability to stick around has starved me of the ability to connect with people in ways other than intellect and lust.
I miss the emotional side of life.
Sometimes I genuinely think more people would feel more inclined to take action for a better world…if we didn’t have certain convenient luxuries. In a lot of ways, the Western populace has become sedated, docile, and apathetic through their over-indulgence and over-dependence on the bells and whistles of modern convenience. We are more willing to sluggishly demand change with a misdirected sense of entitlement…yet rarely willing to do much about it. What happened to people having faith in themselves to take action and change something? Why demand that the rich and powerful do something? Listening to us isn’t exactly among their top priorities, so shouldn’t we stop beating a dead horse and restore faith and dependence on ourselves and each other?
Not saying we shouldn’t have all the privileges that we do. I just think too many people don’t strive to develop the individual and collective capacity to prioritize social and world progress above our addiction to entertainment, gossip, materialism, and gadget salivated escapism.
Sometimes I feel that many people deep down really aren’t as concerned for a better world as they want to appear.
I think that many just feel obligated to have certain opinions about what’s happening around them, you know- as a means to have something to talk about…or as a means to feel a dusty sense of purpose without actually feeling the need to take REAL, productive action.
Or perhaps they act concerned because they’re afraid to admit that, deep down…they really don’t care. No matter what political facade you side with, be it liberal or conservative, we all just want to mind our business and go about our lives without much being asked of us.
A better world is simply too much to ask