The Commune

Honestly, I feel a little harassed. There seems to be a ton of pressure on me to drop my life. I can’t go to San Diego over spring break, combination homework and my dad coming home from 4 months abroad. I know what will be said to me: “I thought we were forming a new family.” I got that when I took a trip with my mom and middle brother (M.B.) over winter break. Like they aren’t supposed to be my family anymore. Maybe I fail at communes. Maybe I didn’t read the fine print. Maybe I just suck. But no. The commune isn’t superlative to my family. The commune isn’t even superlative to my friends because, news flash, none of my best friends are in it. Out of the four members: one I barely know, one was family to begin with (oldest bro, O.B.), one’s O.B.’s friend and a nice mocking big bro figure, and the last is me. None of the handful of people who actually share my interests, enthusiastically and genuinely, are counted among our members. Yes, my O.B. is “a best friend.” I even think of him that way sometimes. But when I compare my dynamic with him to my dynamics with some others? I know he’s there for me, I know he loves me, I know he supports me. And I love him and I’d support him.

But I don’t like the expectations. I don’t like the pace at which I’m called on to drop habits, plans, engagements, responsibilities . . .

When X and I parted ways, I discovered that O.B. always had a bad feeling about X, but didn’t want to say anything because he knew I loved her. As it turns out, O.B. was right, the relationship didn’t work out. But I’d heard from X, previously, that she didn’t like a lot of things about O.B.. People don’t like each other. People suck. We suck. We. Us. We fail to connect, we miss each other temporally and semantically. We misjudge each other, and ourselves. We misbehave. We misinterpret. Generally speaking we’re the worst.

Communard St (C.St.) whispers in my ear about how horrible some of my friends are.

Good job! You’ve discovered my secret! I’m friends with a lot of people who are inferior to you in your perception! But hey… so are you. And my other friends see me that way too. I’m better at solitude than a lot of people I know. That’s why I resign myself to how hard it is for the commune to get together, and stop both A) trying too hard and B) crying about it. Despite being better at solitude, I maintain a number of friendships. They’re fulfilling. I derive value from them. Much as I derive value from my friendships with my communards. I’m not a total recluse. I’m not a crazy hermit. But still I can deal with the idea that my communards have – gasp – other friends!!

Maybe they just don’t. Maybe O.B. and C.St. are lonely. They don’t see many folks in social situations, according to them. Maybe that’s why it bugs them so much that I want to spend time with my other friends regularly, or with my parents on occasion.

Maybe they’re just jealous.

Either way, it’s become a drag responding to the “hurt” feelings of a couple 30-year-olds who want me to only give them my company. I’m being hyperbolic but this is a place to vent and I’ve kept this inside way too long (for fear of further “hurt”). If I were in a commune with my best friends, things might be different. But my best friends wouldn’t chastise me for playing D&D on a regular schedule as my main form of communion with non-commune friends. They wouldn’t run off to distant parts of the world only to admonish me for not visiting them regularly enough. And if they did either of those things, I’d be able to jab them and laugh at their folly, and they’d laugh along too, self-aware and self-reflexive. Because friends get each other. Instead O.B. accuses me of being crazy if I express emotions/feelings/preferences so I tone it down around him. Instead C.St. mocks me and calls me “enraged” if I voice an opinion. It’s bullshit.

These are not my best friends.

In my moment of hyperbolic venting, I’m inclined to say they don’t give a shit about who I am beyond being ‘a member of the commune,’ perhaps managing to note a few useful lexical details about me like ‘temperamental,’ ‘distant,’ ‘uninterested,’ or maybe even ‘lame.’

And that the crazy genius king, despite his insane fundamentalist bent, illogical argumentative stances, and jerkass trolling on Facebook, is a more available “friend.”

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Trackback URI

Ever Daydream

Christmas hadn’t happened yet. We’d all gathered for food and cheer. Same place, same time. But the crab was by my side. Between courses, between drinks, between events, between rooms—I caught her attention and asked if she could come with me briefly. She accepted, and we disappeared. Of course, the hostess was the only one who noticed, and that was fine. If in a dream acceptance were possible, so too would support be. So we stepped out into the night and we got on a bus headed west. If we said anything to each other on the bus, it was curt. The crab was strong in me but I didn’t want to push it. Our transport passed a restaurant named after my heaven. Finally we crossed the freeway and disembarked. After a short traipse, we had arrived. “This is my treasure, my all.” The crab, its duty done, faded into the gentle waves. Fog blocked the city and wind pushed us back from the rocks. In shades of gray, the beauty of the ‘treasure in my heart’ wavered before us. And it was almost midnight and we’d renewed our quaker marriage a hundred times.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Trackback URI

the music makes it worse

“i won’t”

Tagged | Trackback URI

Intermittent Immediacy

Out of sight, out of mind.
Out of mind, out of mind.
Once in mind?

Time takes a strong thing and makes it a weak thing. We constantly trick ourselves into thinking that a remembrance is the thing remembered, that we actually have an impression of a thing once it’s faded. When we stop doing that work, when we don’t leap the whole distance, we maybe realize how unreal the memory is. Surveying the sculpture garden of my interactions, there are some blurrier—less chiseled, or more?—pieces lying scattered about. Untended. Unattended.

When I attend to some memories, they remain elusive. Ill-defined blocks of rock.

Others sharpen. They gleam. Their edges are perfect. Like the world the day I got my glasses.

I guess the test of time isn’t so much an objective erosion as it is a question of how willing one of those statues is to reform itself when gazed upon. Out of sight and out of mind—until the eye wanders and the mind refills.

Tagged , | Trackback URI

Ghostory

Senjougahara is beautiful. The one or two times I’ve been compared to her, it was with pride that I accepted the obvious compliment. But I can’t be her, and I can’t Araragi for someone else’s Senjougahara—in part because I can’t be Araragi either, and in part because no one else can be Senjougahara. We can’t be other people. But we can see dynamics, and those dynamics can excite various emotions within us. Feelings of longing, envy, you name it.

Tonight was weird. Contradicting feelings.

On the one hand, her self-consciousness was rubbing off on me, and so I was more aware, more tentative. On the other I felt a chilling (rather than an exciting) loneliness, so I knew that my own self-consciousness was uncalled for.

Meh. I don’t need guessing games. My friend is my friend, and it’ll stay that way. Best for both of us.

As for my crab…

Tagged , , , , | Trackback URI