happy birthday david berman. when you were 28 i was still 3 years out. i dont think either of these numbers is all that important. neither are all that important. when i thought of being 28 i used to get (un)reasonably scared, now i get reasonably scared. i dont know what i am still waiting for if for anything at all, i performing some kind of fake preparedness. over the past year i would say i have moved on from waiting in general... maybe. no more false patience... maybe. i have been forcing myself into a false patience, that isnt really patience. a willingness to accept everything that comes your way and bear through it all isnt patience and ive realized, finally, most of all, that it isnt a virtue. i spent so long trying to freak out and be not ok with things that i finally became so not ok that i started lexapro... i was right to do this... it was right and correct and good and necessary to do this. im going to keep doing it. i have been treating myself unkindly. i have been treating everything and everyone unkindly. what ive been doing isnt a vice, its something much sadder.
(afternoon) ive spent an unreasonably large amount of money on small items recently. i was told that the amount i have saved is actually pretty good, which means i have too much saved. im going to get it down, so much lower, in exchange my home will be acutely nicer in certain scenarios that i will be spending my time and energy to bring about so that i can make full use of my new $27 [sic] chopsticks. a perfectly structured life for me and for you. structured so that im so satisfied: that there is a direct feedback between my senses and my actions and my experience. how much action is one allowed. im no where near the maximum. im watching that video "I Betrayed My True Self In A Way That Hurt Me So Bad I Could Not Forgive Myself For Twenty-Two Years" it's not really a good video, it's not that amazing, but i dont know what i expected. it's normal, it's the most normal experience that has ever happened. nevermind he just said that one of the things that helped him so much was taking mushrooms, i find this to be of the same level as loving bell hooks. the ocean is so close but im unable to walk into it as id like. the video ends with johnathan crying. i no longer consider the mushroom part as equivalent as loving bell hooks
when i visit my parents in florida i sleep on the couch; often for weeks at a time. i dont consider this my home. the bedroom set aside for me (visitors in general) doesnt have a fan, its stuffy, its next to the front door, the only window looks out onto the walkway. the sheets are poor and plastic, and its covered in pillows. why are there so many pillows? you only need two pillows, one to use one to half use and make yourself feel less alone. im leaving today. im leaving in 5 hours and my flight is in 6 hours. i dont want this flight, but i dont want to be here. i should have to walk to get home, and when im finally there i wont have to leave. i will open the door put my things away, rub the dust off all of the obvious surfaces. i will put the kettle on to boil and prepare a mug of tea. when i lay down on the couch while waiting for the kettle ill fall asleep and ill sleep and miss the kettles ding and ill sleep until the dust comes back and covers me in a fine layer. im sleeping so deep that im not moving at all, the dust is undisturbed and so am i. near the end of the movie memoria, there is a man who isolates himself deep in the jungle alone because he never forgets a thing he sees or experiences. he has lived enough and cant bear the weight. when he sleeps he doesnt dream he dies.
my throat hurts and im not sure im going to make it. im not being melodramatic, im being more honest and real than i have been since i had to start lexapro that one time. im going to start it again i believe, but if i do im not allowing myself to stop again so, who knows if im capable of following through on this.
spending all day watching david berman poetry readings and readings in general and interviews too. there arent actually that many. im using them to train my attention. im also using videos of this guy eating canned fish to train my attention. i eat the same cans as him as he talks about the one hes eating. hes sipping squid olive oil right now (the trader joe's olive oil has more happening on the roof of his mouth than the goya olive oil). everything i do is to train my attention. if i were capable of putting my attention towards the things i wanted to (everything that i do. everyone that i interact with) i dont think i would be able to handle the repercussions in my current state. i would accept the repurcussions but i couldnt handle them. ive never been able to handle them, but ive accepted everything that has ever happened to me. i think it's because im catholic, its because i was raised catholic in the worst way possible - all of the guilt all of the shame none of the community and faith. ive spent the previous few years trying to no longer accept the way things are; i stand by that. i wont accept the way things are, but is there really enough control in my life that i could reject the super structures the structures beyond myself in a way that is meaningful? does it matter? typing the word meaningful felt wrong to me. i dont stand by using that word. is there any hope leveled within rejecting something without replacing it with anything better? no, not really. hope isnt something to seek out, it isnt something to live for. do i believe this. is there a difference between grace and hope, do i hope for grace, do i expect grace to descend upon myself regardelss of my lack of hope and expectations? im undeserving of grace, and dont hope for it, but it will come regardless - agaisnt my wishes and despite my deference. how am i to handle all of this? if there is one things you get from what im saying, if there is one thing you need to understand about grace is that not even the saints could escape their expectations. nearly every female saint was a martyr. whether they sacrificed themselves for others or simply sacrificed themselves. julian of norwich isnt a saint. she wasnt a saint. weil isnt a saint. she wasnt a saint. if you know the meaning of the term "outsider art" you become incapable of ever making outsider art. if you know you must sacrifice yourself, you will never be beatified, but if you know you must, then you will. how unfortunate. how sad. one of the last things david berman did before retiring from silver jews was reveal that his father was a union busting lawyer who he was ashamed of. "my father is a sort of human molestor." his last blog update was less than two weeks before he killed himself. david will never be beatified because he was too aware of his position. i will never be bestowed grace because im expecting it. i should never expect it even though i will never make it otherwise. i continue with no expectation of success, this is better than when i continued with no expectation of anything.
i subscribed to the washington post so i could read an article about keeping cats in small apartments.
(3 am) up all night. its still night. im applying narratives to my life. im applying narratives that have never existed before to my life which has never existed before. my patterns are new and unique and have never been seen before. this is my punishment. am i being punished? it doesnt matter. this isnt the time for deciding this. ill find that out when im older. ill find everything out when im older. first pass pattern formation. im limited in that i dont know where the story ends even though i am writing it. the worst thing that has ever happened to me is that i was blessed with a soul and experience and that in the moment that i understood that, i was not immediately killed.