My Whole Expanse I Cannot See…

So, a reader recently commented on a post I wrote awhile back, Everything burns. It wasn’t a religious post at all, just sort of a look at how life is so temporary and why right now is so important. I wrote about how knowing that life could end at any second is a source of motivation, and depression, and sometimes impulsive choices for me. It’s sort of a liquor, depression, romance, live life right now because it’s going to stop one way or another, post.

Well, this reader replied…

i’m a little upset that nobody has anything to offer you but “your writing is wonderful”, writing is wonderful, it’s a gift and i’m glad you use it to express how you feel in a culture thats so difficult to understand the depth of another persons thoughts and emotions. Were so tied up into alternate reality through media and situations where its hard to ever find someone who really understands.

anyways. I have a lot of friends like you, even though you don’t know me. It’s funny how you can feel like you know someone through what they write down. You are right everyone burns, it’s an instinct we all have when we are bound by our… well for lack of explaination, depression, or our insecurity, our meaninglessness, ect.

There is truth in your words but you lack understanding, understanding which (since it’s so hard to find) will only be obtainable to most by pursuit of it. Your depression is the same depression as everyone elses depression, it’s a separate entity if you will.

This entity is none less then one from the story in the garden of eden. When satan the angel rebelled with other angels in pursuit of being god. Because of this god cast him out of heaven. Satan was in the garden of eden and tempted eve because he hated man, man was created in gods image. He hated us then and hates us now, and his goal is to deceive everyone of us. Because he has eternity of burning waiting for him and he will drag everyone he can down because of his hatred towards us. Satan and his angels (or demons) are the forces that tell us to do wrong and tell us that we have no hope. بينجو اون لاين They are things like depression, and suicide, insecurity, homosexuality, sexual immorality, ect.

Even though you have done wrong and you have listened to those things, you can still have life. Take a step towards understanding, grab a bible, read it start with proverbs and John in the NT. Understand that this is why Jesus died, so you may live. Repent and stop indulging in the things that are draining your lifes blood and taking you to hell. Understand im telling you this because Ive been in your situation.

I was like you, until I had someone in my life forgive me for what I had done to them, he had told me about god and about jesus dying to take those things that bound me so I may live and be free. I was struck by this and pursued trying to understand christianity until I found it. I hate to see people depressed without anyone to be that person for them. You dont have to burn forever, Jesus died so you may live.

So. I guess I’m a good writer, but I’m definitely going to Hell if I don’t “pick up a bible” and find Jesus. It’s nothing I haven’t already thought about, I’m Catholic enough to know about Hell, and what it takes to end up there, and that I’ve done several Hell-worthy offensives. I’ve committed at least three of the Seven Deadly Sins, and I don’t at all feel guilty about at least one of them. I don’t feel bad about most of the “Hell-worthy” things I’ve done, and am going to do. That means that if there is really a Hell, I’m definitely going.

I’m tired of “Christians” judging people, and hating people in the name of Jesus. People seem to forget that Jesus was a radical, and that He was down with the outcasts, people society considered disgusting. Jesus taught love, not judgment, not hate. His teachings were not at all popular with the religious elite of the time, and that’s what bought Him a really fucked up death. People who judge, and condemn, and hate in His name are hypocrites. مراهنات رياضية I imagine Jesus would call such people out as hypocrites, if He ever ends up paying us another visit. مواقع ربح المال If every Christian actually practiced what Jesus preached, we wouldn’t have such an immense homeless problem, we wouldn’t have countless hate crimes committed every-day, life would be better.

I’m not a religious person, I think organized religion is ultimately just a way for a few people to control many people. The Bible is just a book written by men, men with flaws and agendas. It’s not some perfect guidebook to human existence. Too often, people use the Bible as weapon against other people, which definitely isn’t Christian. Organized religion has never made me feel welcomed.

I try to be kind to people, I try not to hurt anyone. I try to love unconditionally, I try to be empathetic. I don’t do any of this perfectly, but I try. I try to be a good person. I write a lot about liquor, and drugs, and depression, and sex, I write it all from experience. I regret some things, I absolutely don’t regret others. I believe in God and Jesus, in my own way. I could be entirely wrong about everything, or not. I don’t know. If I’m wrong about everything, I guess I’m going to Hell. I’ll see what happens, when it happens.

I have to say that Negative Creep is probably the most fun song to sing when in a dark mood. The words are garbled, Kurt’s pretty much just screaming into the mic, it doesn’t really tell a story, but it’s just so full of raw energy. I like to sit here sometimes, screaming with Kurt, and sometimes I still expect to feel air move past my lips and hear the voice I hear in my head.

In my head, there had been three perfect zombie movies, 28 Days Later, Dawn of the Dead (2004) and Shaun of the Dead. After tonight, however, my list is up to four thanks to the surprising awesomeness of Zombieland. Zombieland tells the story of four survivors living in a world of blood-thirsty victims of a terrible virus, and falls into the genre of “horror comedy,” which always worries me a little. Bad horror can be really funny, but bad comedy is always just flat out bad. Fortunately, Zombieland does everything right. It’s stylishly violent, sometimes scary, but also very funny, and very warm.

To me, the great zombie movies aren’t really about zombies, they’ve about people, people facing the end and trying to cope with death that could happen at any moment. People don’t generally think of death as something that could happen tomorrow, or right now. People are almost child-like about death. Death is something that happens to other people, or when you’re “really old.” People stay in shit jobs, worry about schedules, have petty arguments over things that don’t matter, they don’t spend time enough with people they love, because there’s always time to live differently. Zombies strip away ridiculous constructs and the delusional idea that there’s always time to be happier or say to that someone who feels like home, “I love you.” Zombies are a death that everyone can see, and smell, they’re not a vague notion of something that will happen “eventually.” When death is banging bloody hands on the door, people get their priorities straight. Survival and being with those we care about, nothing else is important. Zombieland captures all of this with dark humor, bloody violence, and genuine tenderness.

If zombies showed up tomorrow, I know right where I’d want to be. Do you?

There’s this line from The Dark Knight, the Joker says, “I believe whatever doesn’t kill you simply makes you stranger.” I don’t really like the movie, but Heath Ledger’s Joker is a brilliant character. That particular line seems very true to me. Trauma leads to cracks that shape people differently. My blog documents my cracks, cracks that keep getting deeper. It documents me getting stranger, and getting better at writing about it. Still, I’m not broken, there’s still something left of me.

So, I’m waiting to go for my usual fresh trache. I’m thinking about Tender Branson just now, he’s a character from Survivor, my favorite novel. Survivor is the best thing Chuck Palahniuk’s ever written, and it’s the book that showed me the way that I write today. New artists just learning their craft tend to copy other artists who’ve mastered their craft. Eventually, that copying evolves into something unique, it stops being a copy and becomes something new. I like to hope that that’s happening with what I learned from Survivor. I hope that Palahniuk’s voice is mixing with the voice in my head to create something new. I’ve been influenced by lots of books, I’m always finding inspiration from other writers, but Palahniuk’s Survivor is my foundation. Anyway, back to Tender Branson.

Tender’s sitting in the the cockpit of a hijacked 747 cruising at 39,000 feet. He’s up there alone, telling his life story to the plane’s flight data recorder, particularly the astonishingly fucked up year leading to his being alone in the cockpit of a hijacked 747. He’s up there knowing he has about seven hours to tell his story until the plane runs out of fuel, then he’ll crash, and die. He says, “The sky is blue and righteous in every direction. The sun is total and burning and just right there in front. We’re on top of the clouds, and this is a beautiful day forever.” He says, “Just for the record, how I feel right now is very terrific.”

I don’t want to die in a plane crash, or getting my trache changed, but I’d love to feel the sort of clarity that Tender feels up in that cockpit. I’d love to wake up with a fresh trache and know what the next seven hours will bring. Part of me would even like to know that this is my last trache change, and that would be that. I could sit for a few hours and write something about me that’s perfect and final. Given the last few years, a little certainty would be nice. I’ve had so many things that seemed absolutely certain go absolutely wrong, it’s difficult to trust in anything save for the idea that nothing is certain aside from death.

I’m swimming in, sometimes drowning in so much grey area. I wish that a few things would get clear. It’s so hard to write when everything that means anything is grey, everything that means anything important.

When I was in New York a few months ago i met this writer, Elna Baker. She’s behind my favorite This American Life story, Babies Buying Babies. At first glance she’s young, beautiful. Talking to her it’s obvious she’s smart, funny, liberal. What’s not obvious about her, at least right away, is that she’s a Mormon. She’s a single Mormon girl trying to make it in the big city. As I said, she’s a writer, and her first book is a memoir.

The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance by Elna Baker is an intimate look into her life after leaving home and family to make a life in New York city. The memoir begins as Elna is preparing to leave home to start college at NYU. Her family’s quite worried about her, not for all the obvious reasons, they’re afraid for her immortal soul. Her mom is particularly concerned, afraid that New York will defile her lovely, overweight, completely innocent daughter. See, Elna’s family is very Mormon. Her mom’s biggest worry is that Elna will move away, find liquor, then drugs, and then become a lesbian. Because, obviously, vices lead to lots of really hot lesbian sex. Elna’s mom warns her of clubs where men pay larger women money to undress. She tells her, “don’t do that.” This is the sort of lecture a Mormon girl gets before college, don’t become a junkie lesbian stripper. Elna may be sheltered, but she’s not naive. She’s aware that her mom’s warnings are hilariously over the top, and she writes about her family, her upbringing and herself with wit and sincerity.

Being a single Mormon means Elna’s a virgin. She’s supposed to abstain until marriage, and if she wants to go to Heaven, she has to merry a Mormon fellow in a Mormon Temple. This would be fine, except for the fact that she’s a crazy romantic, very free spirited and has a good dose of sexual desire. Okay, a double dose of sexual desire. This memoir is about her desire to live life on her terms while remaining faithful to God and church. Juggling faith, and longing, and lust, it’s not an easy task. Elna writes about her stints on the Mormon singles scene, particularly the New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance, a room full of awkward virgins looking to find a mate. Elna’s kind of an outsider among Mormons, she questions things. She doesn’t blindly follow what others buy so easily. She plays the Mormon singles game, but she knows it’s absurd. She’s able to write about her search for intimacy with such humor and clarity. It doesn’t help that most Mormon guys, are apparently, dorks. It’s difficult for Elna, who’s very well read, intelligent and spontaneous, to find an even remotely acceptable suitor within her faith. Dating outside the faith is difficult because no matter how much she might care for a guy, being with him goes against everything she was raised to believe. Throughout the book we watch her beliefs shift, they change as she matures. She loses eighty pounds, she sees herself differently, as do all the fellows in New York. She’s young and hot, and shackled to a belief system that she might not believe. She never doubts that God exists, but she definitely questions how she was taught to serve Him.

The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance by Elna Baker is a smart, funny and interesting look into the life of a young lady trying to balance passion and faith. She wants to get laid, without damning her soul.

So, for various unimportant reasons, I watched 27 Dresses and Bridget Jones’s Diary, pretty much back to back. They’re “up” movies, “happy” movies, two movies I wouldn’t generally watch. So, I watched both, and they ended so well. A girl meets a guy, they don’t like each other at first, but then they realize that they’re so hopelessly in love. There are some funny moments. There’s a little valley of saddneess, a point where it looks like the two might not end up together. Of course, they do end up together, and they’re so happy, and they’re going to stay happy. At the end of movies like these, I always think to myself, “wow, that almost never happens.” These movies are plastic, fake. We all want that happy ending, we want it to be real. Maybe it is real, maybe it’s possible, but it’s definitely not so easy, and it’s absolutely not guaranteed.

It hit me that I can watch a movie like, Se7en, and when it’s over think to myself, “yes, that’s about right.” I think, “that’s fucked up, it’s awful, and it’s true.” Maybe my wife’s head won’t end up in a box, that almost never happens, but that feeling of loss happens to people everyday. Lovers die, lovers leave. People die alone, and regret things they almost had, or never had. Finding something amazing and keeping it for any length of time is so astonishingly difficult. The world, I think, is a really difficult, often shitty place. Finding misery, emptiness, that’s easy. Love, happiness, contentment, those things require so much struggle, and they’re absolutely not certain to anyone. Movies like Se7ven, in a bizarre sort of way, feel so much more honest to me. Se7en is a rather extreme look at the worst things people can experience, most people will never see that particular level of Hell, but to me the film’s basic message is very true. As bad as we can imagine the world, it can turn far worse. Life is difficult, with the capacity for so much pain, so much loss. As black as things can get, as pointless as it might feel to keep struggling, as easy as it might feel to quit, don’t. Not that things are certain to get better, not life will ever make sense. Don’t quit because there are good things in the world, and those things are worth the fight.

I’ve had my share of bad experiences, visited my own versions of Hell. I constantly question why I keep going. I’ve wanted to stop, but I don’t. For whatever reason, I don’t. Part of it, I think, is dark fiction, movies like Se7en. I often hear, “maybe if you don’t watch things that are so depressing, if you watched something funny for a change, you’ll feel better.” I get similar comments about music and books. The thing is, what I watch, and listen to, and read, isn’t depressing to me. Sad maybe, but to me, honest. I feel like my head isn’t being filled with candy-coated half-truths. Acknowledging so much ugliness, or pain, or sadness, helps me to appreciate the beauty that does exist, even when it seems so far away.  When a woman kisses me, or looks at me in that way that makes me forget how to type, I don’t take it for granted, because tomorrow something could take everything away. Art is a way to externalize, and at least try to understand, things that are awful and don’t make sense.

A reader, Ariel, suggested a really fun writing topic…

“I’d like to read about your thoughts on tattooed women… do you like the art, the commitment to content, and the permanence? Or do you prefer a pristine, petal-soft, blank canvas”

I’m a fellow who really likes and gets along with women. Pretty much all my close friends are women, I find it easier to relate to women. I can talk about “guy things,” sports and whatever, I can get along with anyone. Still, I feel more like myself more often around women than other fellows. It’s definitely not my goal to sleep with every woman I meet. If that connection’s not there, it’s not there, and it’s obvious when it’s not. Being friends with a woman isn’t difficult or awkward. If that connection is there, she really can’t be against tattoos.

I happen to be rather fond of tattoos, I have twenty-six and counting. I think tattoos, and the reasons behind tattoos can be pretty fascinating. Liking tattoos as much as I do, women with inked skin definitely catch my eye, but I can’t say that I prefer a tattooed woman to a lady with pristine skin. I’m attracted to smart women with beautiful eyes. If there’s a spark between me and a woman, and she happens to have ink, it’s definitely hot, but it’s definitely not a necessity.

Ever since I choked on some pineapple juice, died, and woke up not being able to talk, it’s been very apparent that nothing lasts forever. Girlfriends leave, and come back, and leave again. You meet new people, they feel close, and they don’t, and they do again, then they don’t. You get high, and it fades. Liquor feels amazing, and then it doesn’t. Alanis Morissette once wrote, “you will learn to lose everything, we are temporary arrangements.” There’s a line from Heath Ledger’s Joker, he says, “everything burns.” Heath’s dead now. Everything does burn, nothing lasts, aside from possibly the written word. Still, the people behind the words don’t last. We’ll all be as dead as Heath eventually, and there’s not a Goddamn fucking thing we can do about it. Aside from suicide, our ends aren’t welcomed, or genuinely expected.

Everything burns… it’s such an honest thing to say. The idea that everything burns is frustrating, at least to me. Aside from the times I’ve wanted to quietly slit my wrists, and those times have been genuine, I don’t want to die. Really, I want to be happy. I want to write well. I want a woman to love me, and I want to fall asleep holding her. I want the life I have in my head. The idea that everything burns makes me a little insane, it crushes me, and it drives me. It’s why I write the way I write, it’s why I try things that scare me, it’s part of why I have it in me to drink too much, it’s part of my depression, it’s why I revel in new experiences. Last night, I looked into a woman’s eyes and said, “I really want to kiss you.” Saying something like that is kind of terrifying, but I can’t not say those things, because everything burns. I know everything burns, and I tend to make a lot of decisions because of that knowing. Right or wrong, it’s what I do. I let people carry me up flights of stairs at goth clubs, I drink like mad sometimes, I flirt like crazy, I write like there might not be a tomorrow. I do these things because everything burns, and I can’t not know it, not anymore.

I might be astonishingly physically fucked up, and I’m going to burn, but you know what? You’re going to burn just the same. Life ends for everyone. That’s why right now is important.

There are a few writers I really admire, they’ve made me better through their craft. They’ve not only helped make me the writer I am today, but they’ve helped me feel better about life during some times when bleeding out seemed like a really good idea. So, if any of these people need anything, ever, I’m always down to help.

Catherynne M. Valente is one of these people. She’s written some of the most hauntingly gorgeous things I’ve ever read, The Labyrinth, Apocrypha, Palimpsest, all brilliant. Unfortunately, this economy absolutely fucking sucks, and getting published doesn’t necessarily make a writer rich. Bills start piling up, cash doesn’t come in like we planned, and really bad things start happening. It’s obviously not just a writer problem, it could happen to anyone. It’s happened to me. When life sucks, I think it’s important that we help each other out. The person you look out for today could be the person who looks out for you tomorrow.

Right now, Cat Valente is having a really rough go of things, and she could really use a hand. She needs help to stay afloat in the middle of a flood, and she has a fantastic idea for doing so. Let’s not let Cat drown, she’s too awesome. If you’ve never read her, definitely pick up a few of her books. Like I said, they’re brilliant.