It’s weird to discover that your life can make no sense in two directions at once–like this terrible mess can be happening on the one hand and on the other hand, you’re being asked if you want to come look at what some local artists are doing to see which ones might be the ones you want to work with.
My soul feels a little like taffy, “how the fuck is this my life?”ing in two directions at once.
The thing that is difficult is that, my whole life, my family has been in a defensive, protective crouch. Bad things are going to happen. Don’t do anything or say anything that might catch the attention of those bad things and make it worse.
And I have a strong instinct to huddle down right now. But it just can’t be done. I have to do this cool shit.
And so, I think, part of what I’m feeling, too, weirdly enough, is guilt. Because I cannot give this situation the attention it deserves. I am all out of more than a handful of shits to give, which I gave last night. And now, I have to focus on this stuff that makes me happy.
There should be a story about a guy who regularly drowns. Like literally dies. And somehow comes back only to drown again. Sincerely drowns and is sincerely dead and then sincerely returns to suffer and go under again, no matter how much help he gets. Would you blame the people who stop throwing life preservers, I wonder?