Ok, so I'm sitting here listening to Otis Redding's "The Very Best of Otis Redding" and I'm thinking about something that Nietzsche not so much quoted, as insinuated--and that is that the death of the body is far less frightening than the death of the soul--hold on, let me find the exact quote. Alright--this is from "Thus Spoke Zarathustra." Ok, he's telling a man who just fell to his imminent death, "Your soul will be dead even sooner than your body; fear nothing further." Ok, so then I went on to read an interview in The Believer with Will Sheff of Okkervil River and he was talking about growing up and this idea of moral grayness that accompanies that, and wait--ok, he's talking about a sort of adult pop, music that is aware of "people being compromised and people betraying themselves, and selling themselves out, selling themselves short...the weight of guilt and baggage." And I kind of came to this realization that this transformation is a whole lot scarier than dying. I always fancied myself an optimist to a fault, maybe a bit too naive even. But then as I read these things I realized that i may slowly, but undeniably, be slipping into pessimism.
"Try a Little Tenderness" Interlude
(Good purchase, myself)
I was sitting in the car on the way back from the southside today, stuck on the hot metal bridge and hating my life alot, just thinking about the people i've betrayed in one way or another and vice versa, and a whole bunch of other morbid garbage brought about by a day of kids shitting themselves and yelling like feral cats in a library setting. And at one point listening to a radio piece encouraging men to be good fathers, i shouted to a certain "three men and a baby" alum, "fuck you, tom selleck!" This was obviously completely uncalled for and immediately regretted. There is no excuse for cursing the mustachioed mustang in any situation. What I'm trying to say is I dont want to age into some bitter, jaded, crow-eyed degernation of myself who hates magnum p.i. I think that's the scariest thing, the fear that you might not be able to stay afloat. I'm getting a call now from someone who sees me as the latter self, the innocent, vaguely unfocused doof of maybe four years ago, and i think i will always be stuck as this person for him. And I'm ignoring the call right now, because I can't call up this old version of myself right now. I think I'll probably sound like a zombie.
I wish Gerkey was here and that I could see her more often. Who else woud memorize Jane Eyre quotes with me or skinny dip in, what was that, Allegeny Forest? Would it be unreasonable to forgo Prague and move to northern Pennsylvania to pal around with her for awhile?
"Sitting on the Dock of the Bay" Interlude
Alright I really should not be ignoring these calls. I promise they won't all be this dismal. I'll close with some words from a good friend.
"hobbies are good, blogs are better"
1 comments:
First, great blog name. And to think the best I could come up with was 'The Friendly Confines.' So lame.
Second, I commend you for a post that was a lot more open than what I usually write. The few times that I do that, people just tell me to suck it up. I've resolved never to tell that to anyone else. You should read The Metamorphosis--I read part of it in German in high school. Or better yet, you should read the Tale of the Heike this summer. In looking back on all that I've read, I think that it may be the single-most beautiful thing ever written. It's tedious at times, as a historical-literary work can be, but it's worth it. I could even single out chapters to read.
But I say this because I think that it gives a better/different approach to the struggle for meaning than Freddie and existentialism. It really captures the Buddhist sense of the 'evanescence' of life in a really touching and beautiful way. I identify with it a lot--I'd love to talk about it some time.
Finally, If you have the time this week or next, I'm going into finals week. If you have something that you want to write about for The Friendly Confines, I'd appreciate the contribution. It's tough to write when I'm reading all the time... or at least pretending to.
Post a Comment