March 11th, 2005

Reply to All

You're all so cute when you think I'm wallowing in listlessness. Or you're defensive when you think I'm saying life's a waste. I can read both into the comments on the last post. Either way, buck up and smile, kids.

Don't take yesterday's post too seriously. I like to write to work through an idea, to try it out. I was haunted by the image of an old man lying in a casket, dead, with a lifetime of discovery and knowledge -- the books he'd read, the skills he'd developed -- locked away in his mind, useful to no one. Isn't that a powerful image? At the same time, I was starting to accept that I'm not as motivated to make something of myself as I used to be. I'm actually pretty happy with my life and myself, and it gives me the creeps. Seriously, the fucking creeps. I don't want to be a happy guy, I want to be that angst-ridden kid crawling and clawing manically to get just a few inches ahead of where I was yesterday, or to drag the world towards me, to bring it into my control, even if it's totally futile.

Oh, and I'm on the verge -- the very fucking cusp -- of 25. I'm having to accept that I'm entrenched in adulthood, and that's a tough reality to accept.

So no worries. I still like the last post a lot (that line about Newton and giants is pretty swell, no?), but when I get that gloomy and nihilistic, I might just be working an idea out, or working it out of my system.