Outside a Starbucks in the California Suburbs || Memorial Day, 12.45pm
Oh, God, I want to talk to someone. I want to talk to somebody so bad.
I should never have started this trip without first considering that there would be days like this. Days when nothing will come out but inchoate whines of panic. When what I'm trying to do drowns me with its urgency and weight, and there's nothing to dispel the fear with. No refrigerator, no TV, not even Internet. And no one to talk to, without explaining the whole thing first and getting through the congratulations, which are really a polite dismissal.
I hate when people tell me I'm brave, or exceptional in anyway. That's really just their way of putting me at a distance, of getting a pass at participating or supporting me.
I should have thought of this before I got started.
Everyone from the Beatles to Justin Bieber wants only somebody to love. We need a place to focus our energy...why? Because we assume that it will give back. Effort in, results out. We don't erally want somebody to love; we want somebody to love us, and we're ready to put the work in.
But that's not entirely true. This energy we have inside needs to go somewhere; we just don't want to put it anywhere that won't produce results. that's not good capitalism. Or, as the Christians say, that's not wise.
I started this project because I was in love with it. I didn't stop to think about how much it might require of me, and how just being with it would have to be its own reward.Sometimes I just need the help, a place to diffuse the nervous energy...and I can't ahve it. There's no fridge, no TV, no Internet, and nobody picking up their phone. And the writing isn't speaking back to me with the nod that yes, you're making sense. Everywhere feels like a room with no windows. Every person who walks by feels like a slap in the face--another tory I wouldn't get right, even if I had the chance with it. Maybe now I understand a little beter about what drives guys to pornography. On some intuitive level I can't explain right now.
GK Chesterton said that anything worth doing is worth doing badly. I wonder if he meant almost panicking, starving, and wandering around like Cain.
I wonder what I'd be doing if I wasn't here?
That might be the only thing that can bring me back to sanity. This is nearly intolerable, but the alternative is untenable. And that's the difference.