I realized yesterday that I am the opposite of a person who is looking to get on in society. I’m a social descender.
This conflicts with my love of beauty and excellence, which is often found at lofty levels, but I’ve just come to think that experiencing things is better than owning them, because one becomes responsible for what one owns, and limits spring up. A person can lick a lot of awesome without having to build a museum of a life to hold it tight and keep it safe.
“In between love and trying to scheme love
Who can tell what we may find
All this time love, I sublime love
To the feelings in my mind”
I feel the same about people as I do about things; I tell myself that I don’t need to own them; I don’t mind how moments of connection present, as long as they do. I behave this way too, and it can be unsettling to wives, or to people who place more value on years than moments. Even if I did want to hold people forever, it is usually not possible, which encourages me to tell myself that letting go is better than holding tight.
I’m like a strange wine, deep and quirky, unsuitable for daily drinking. Frequently rejected.
I was both thrilled and demoralized to re-read this beautiful, excellent interview done at Ferry’s studio by Chris Roberts in 2010, one of the few really good interviews anyone’s bothered to do with BF. I won’t bore you with my conflicting emotions and existential pain brought on my the piece; they are internal and cannot be laid at the feet of either man.
But I do wonder, if in so deliberately keeping myself on the goat-choking end of life’s learning curves for so long, if I have actually cheated myself of the opportunity to be something more.
This is a night-thought that I am annoyed to have had follow me into morning, and into the meditation that I have saved this weekend to sink into.
I don’t want to think about this.