The less I try to feel less, the faster I get to nothing.

Perhaps if you try to feel everything at once, any bad feeling you were to feel would be overwhelmed with and consumed by all of the good and all of the bad and all of the in between, and you would lose the ability to feel heartache all together.

Your feelers would get old and wither into a molted shell, dissolving you of feelings and allowing for a new sensory method to evolve. Into something so fantastic no one has even bothered to consider, because your head would ache at any attempt to imagine it. Feelings may have gone, but oxygen is everywhere. Maybe now, out of boredom, the brain decides to filter and process oxygen it inhales and pushes through our bodies. It’s figured out that a history lives inside that air. Stories about where that air was before you. Who used it, what they were thinking with it, and what they were doing with it.

Feeling nothing, to know everything. That sounds like something.

Zen and the art of organic mental mechanics

It wasn’t until I felt totally enveloped in something, without the chance of air slipping through the edges, that I could move on and feel as though I understood something. It was deliberately exhausting, it was alienating and it was ultimately unsuccessful. Anything else would have been unbearable.

The sheer amount of time it would take to try and think of all the possible angles, plausible reactions and likely repercussions, could be immeasurable for any number of mundane decisions you take for granted. The thickness and length of a sock to wear. How many times are too many to use one towel? Which person can I tolerate sitting next to for three hours? So you start to take shortcuts and profile. You evaluate people and things, draw on past experience, comparing and contrasting to make quick-er decisions. This may sound like an expanded description of what most people do on a daily basis without thinking. Only I would have to consciously sift through these mental talking points to put them in neat little piles before I could see past them.

Eventually in order to move on alongside the rest of the world, you start leaving the occasional pile of possibilities unsifted in a disheveled corner out of the way. You power through it cringing, and over time you start to condition yourself to overlook the mess you are leaving behind.

These sidesteps were blindingly valiant maneuvers. But like most valiant things, they fail valiantly. Something new and unaccounted for takes shape and ruins everything. Nothing you know is the same. It is horrific and intoxicating, and I wouldn’t change it for anything.

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Surrounded by noble savages.

I don’t believe that the word ‘likeminded’ has any palpable meaning, other than to help decide what color horseshit I’ll be eating. Though you can’t deny that surrounding yourself with and supporting likemindeds, does help to make disappointment more comfortable (that’s something.) If a person who I did not know were to forget my name and steal my money, well you know… I’d want to set them on fire or feed them their own hair. Then if I knew this person and they liked Bill Callahan, post-modern design, and thought that Pete was a more interesting character than Don Draper… in all likelihood I would chalk it up to a series of endearing letdowns.

At the end of the day, I guess all that matters is being comfortable. Thank you everyone who makes me feel comfortable. I think I’m doing this thing right!

DEATH DEFYING ACTS OF MEDIOCRITY