Eternal Recurrence

In the act of coming to terms with sacrificing large portions of my library, I’m finding titles I’d forgotten about, re-reading books where it’s been years. Re-read Ariana Reines’ Mercury and spent longer than I intended reading emails between myself, Jackie Wang, Michael Thomas Taren and her. At this point nearly ten years ago.

I don’t want to think about the past but I can’t help but consider the shifting ways I’ve carried my own energy. Sometimes I think about how there are individuals I once was invested in being friends with whom I have written off as now being lost to academia. I wonder if anyone who knew me as a high-functioning and energetic alcoholic wonders why I no longer like to “have fun.” I wonder sometimes if my partner thinks this. If he does, I have to assume he doesn’t consider it a problem.

I wonder if the fact that I’m more than willing to leave things behind in order to move forward will make things harder for me down the line.

A muted exhaustion: I’m so tired of carrying on in the way that refuses anything other than the way I already know how. Things mutate but structures are the same. The problem with being so highly adaptable to change is that sometimes I forget I need to slow down and insist that certain things remain.

A compulsion has found me making note of every movie I’ve watched since June of 2003, books going back to 2005. If I fail to record the log does that mean I saw the film? There’s a way where right now I’m tired of trying to pretend I have to think so much about movies. I want to stop keeping a record and instead start forging artifacts. When the dissatisfaction hits it’s best not to conceptualize it as depression, but rather impetus. Social media is exhausting and you know things are bad when you miss the idea of Facebook as a performance venue.

I like the idea of performance don’t think that the idea of performing is separate from any sort of authenticity. In one of the emails from Ariana, she writes: “i have come to realize that there are times i perform certain kinds of excess because somehow along the way i got the idea that people preferred to love me when i was in those states than in some more practical or simple or direct states[.]” I struggle with the distance between my desire to perform excess and a desire to maintain sobriety, or at least the health that I now consider so core to my practice. But at heart I am nothing but Dionysian. Again, there’s nothing wrong with this, and every day I have to find new ways to reconcile the distance between.

New ways to communicate the energy. Trapped right now between the body in movement and the insistent aura of the object. Raw materials. What it feels like to skin the shin on cement. Dirt beneath the fingernails. Grass stains. Simultaneity. I want to be wrapped up in a way that’s not just a metaphor.

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