Thursday, March 26, 2009
You pour yourself into something. Doesn’t matter what it is. You pour yourself into it because at one point you think it’s important. Then maybe you figure out that it isn’t important, but by then you’ve invested too much, and the investment is important even if the thing you’ve invested in isn’t anymore. Is that too general? I will specify. Once I believed that I had something to say about life and politics and art and culture and all of this other shit that somehow is critically important even though you can go days without thinking about it. So I started talking to anyone who would listen, because I needed people to listen. Then I realized that I was doing it for myself, to be listened to, instead for other people because I thought I was saying something they needed to hear. That’s a tough pill to swallow, and a hard trip to take. Out on the other side of it, I said to myself, you know what? Keep talking. That’s all you have, the talking. The listening doesn’t matter. You talk into the void, because it’s all a void, and instead of knowing someone is listening, you trust your sanity and your worth and your life to the possibility that someone might listen. And you know what? That’s enough. The possibility is enough. Once there might have been certainty, but now the possibility has to be enough.