quar ter life catha rsis
“finishing” this zine is extra special for me,because it has contorted and stalled for years(e.g. the oldest thing i wrote in here dates back tosophomore year of college.)
up until last week, i had pretty much given up on italtogether.
i can’t fully articulate what changed but i can giveyou this: living builds up emotion, creating artreleases; and creating art is the most catharticthing i know how to do.
so, this is an emotional backlog of what i’veendured, repressed, glorified, overcame, andcontinue to indulge (but not necessarily in thatorder...)
this is a distilled and poised look into an early 20-something-year-old’s head- and heart- space. andwhile the emotions expressed are notrevolutionary or catastrophic, they are mine. thanks for being here with me,
P.H.
There are these two young fish...and they happen to meet an older fish...who nods at themand says “Morning, boys. How’s the water?” ...the two young fish swim on for a bit, and theneventually one of them looks over at the other and goes “What the hell is water?”
If you’re worried that I plan to present myself here as the wise old fish...please don’t be.... Thepoint of the fish story is merely that the most obvious, important realities are often the onesthat are hardest to see and talk about.
This, I submit, is the freedom of a real education, of learning how to be well-adjusted. You getto consciously decide what has meaning and what doesn’t. You get to decide what to worship.
Because here’s something else that’s weird but true: in the day-to-day trenches of adult life,there is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping.Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship.
The plain fact is that you graduating seniors do not yet have any clue what “day in day out”really means. There happen to be whole, large parts of adult American life that nobody talksabout in commencement speeches. One such part involves boredom, routine and petty frustration.
The really important kind of freedom involves attention and awareness and discipline, andbeing able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them over and over in myriadpetty, unsexy ways every day.
That is real freedom. That is being educated, and understanding how to think. The alternativeis unconsciousness, the default setting, the rat race, the constant gnawing sense of havinghad, and lost, some infinite thing.
On one level, we all know this stuff already. It’s been codified as myths, proverbs, clichés,epigrams, parables; the skeleton of every great story. The whole trick is keeping the truth upfront in daily consciousness.
It is about the real value of a real education, which has almost nothing to do withknowledge, and everything to do with simple awareness; awareness of what is so realand essential, so hidden in plain sight all around us, all the time, that we have to keepreminding ourselves over and over:
“This is water.”
“This is water.”
It is unimaginably hard to do this, to stay conscious and alive in the adult world day inand day out. Which means yet another grand cliché turns out to be true: your educationreally IS the job of a lifetime. And it commences: now.
I wish you way more than luck.
I remember it like white headlights on black road, static on radio.
There was joke after joke after joke, like mile markers in our conversation.
Your driving had us under those tunnels of orange light and shadow.
Even now, in my mind, I play our laughing in consecutive still frames.
I play our laughing to fill the silence of me driving further and further away...
You got a fast car
I want a ticket to anywhere
Maybe we make a deal
Maybe together we can get somewhere
Any place is better
Starting from zero, got nothing to lose
Maybe we'll make something
Me, myself, I got nothing to prove
You got a fast car
I got a plan to get us out of here
I been working at the convenience store
Managed to save just a little bit of money
Won't have to drive too far
Just 'cross the border and into the city You and I can both get jobs
And finally see what it means to be living
See, my old man's got a problem
He lives with the bottle, that's the way it is
He says his body's too old for working
His body's too young to look like his
My mama went off and left him
She wanted more from life than he could give
I said, somebody's got to take care of him
So I quit school and that's what I did
You got a fast car
Is it fast enough so we can fly away?
We gotta make a decision
Leave tonight or live and die this way
So I remember we were driving, driving in your car
Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk City lights lay out before us
And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder
And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone You got a fast car We go cruising to entertain ourselves You still ain't got a job And I work in a market as a checkout girl I know things will get better You'll find work and I'll get promoted We'll move out of the shelter
Buy a bigger house and live in the suburbs So I remember when we were driving, driving in your car Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk City lights lay out before us
And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder
And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone You got a fast car
I got a job that pays all our bills
You stay out drinking late at the bar See more of your friends than you do of your kids
I'd always hoped for better Thought maybe together you and me would find it I got no plans, I ain't going nowhere
So take your fast car and keep on driving So I remember when we were driving, driving in your car Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk City lights lay out before us
And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder
And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged
I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone
Knowing how to be solitary is central to the art of loving. When we can be alone, we can be with others without using them as a means of escape.
START OF ANOTHER 02
A trunk full, closed, andheaded towards the promises of our higher education.
Shotgunned next to you,we’re a little unfamiliar but gossip and music help. We reach that part of thebridge, where the skylinefirst shows itself, andundoubtedly I’m smallagain.
We stop in front of a bluehouse. It looks fine,unremarkable: 3 units, alarge tree, a staircase.
Walking to the top floor,every step is an echo. Thepaint fumes linger. I crackopen a window, then asuitcase, then a box, so onand so forth until the spaceis sparse and full.
I find a place for most ofmy things, a little awkward,a little temporary. Theydon’t look like they belongyet, but eventually they will.
Eventually I will too.
There’s noise to the point of ambient.
I can’t understand anything anyone is saying—even if I tried.
I see others lost in conversation, lost in each other. Me, just lost.
It’s now when I’m most reminded of my self, my posture, my breathing, how I’m scanning the room, how I’m waiting, how aware I am of everyone and how unaware everyone is of me.
Some silences are too heavy for strangers to hold and that's what the Billboard Top 100 is for. The pine musk, I'm a lot less sure.
I can't keep my eyes off of the cars passing by the buildings passing by us. Passing and passing until pausing.
"For Stephen?"
All I can is scoot over.
Another couple of stories that I'm too tired to read, I'm sorry. The streets twist on regardless.
"Here's good."
In the middle of a slow slamming door, I notice strong arches and a window. Looks wide enough to frame a family inside. Looks warm.
They've made it home but I'm still so far from it.
for us it started with wine and a shot in the dark sparks everywhere we haven’t stopped laughing yet because our aim was accidental perfection
the overarching theme of this flick for me is the importance of belief: the belief of what could’ve been, believing what could be, because for those of us who are really sensitive souls - the absence of optimism is a death sentence. another huge theme is the importance of external belief on one’s internal belief... ...even having 1 person who believes in you, and in this case not only believes in you but believes you, can inspire such an important shift of belief in self. you know, it’s the audacity of hope, and sometimes someone has to be audacious enough to believe in you first. it might not be a parent, for many of us it isn’t. friends matter. friendship isn’t frivolous. and friendships can be as or more important than romantic relationships. self esteem doesn’t exist in a vacuum. someone has to gas you up first and get you to a point where you can take that belief that they have in you and then find that belief in yourself.
think panoramic oceans, canopies, climbing sandstone, for a second we get lostfrom within...
go back to poker table garages, sunset homes, and, for measures,several cathederals chime in...
street parking is a headache but this place is a dreamland,
I’m still pinching myself getting to be here...
is there a way to fully appreciate the stuff as it’s happening?whenever i try to live in the moment, it feels like i’m forcing it,like i’m trying to make a memory because i know i’m goingto remember these days fondly
the best memories aren’t forced, they just happen... but if theyjust happen without me even realizing it, how do i appreciateit before it’s over?
We say happiness can’t be bought
but on Friday nights it’s loaned andit’s ours.
Expensive drinks, cheap thrills; seeking clean clean chaos.
The lights take turns bouncing offwalls.Then us.
The floors in total vibration. Amplified, unforgiving.
On my way to the restroom, hard focus, every step is certain.
People come lagging and go glitched.
We meet for a minute and talk like we didn't just meet. If I had known your name, I wouldn't remember it now.
These days fold into nights fold intoeach other.
I’m uncomfortable, sticky, screamingdesperate to be heard. I don’t need hindsight, I already knowI’m going to miss this.
06
Waking up, hurried to be with people that are no different.
It’s a dull tunnel.
Tucked between strangers, I try and lean into the new momentum. Years of practice and still a jolt, my feet stutter from starting up again. I had just gotten use to how things were and now we’re somewhere else, new faces to learn, new postures to study.
The screeching of rails and internal diaologues. It’s a contradiction being here: I feel I’m moving too fast and not at all.
the valley shows signs of rust kids playing with shiny toys trespassing tax brackets and we race: IQ, glory, insecurities, 6 figures, but mostly taxes.
It’s high rush inescaping: a treat, a poison, dead ends nonetheless. Insufficiency, caffiene, faster, dopamine, better, more, incomplete.
Broken glass, broken dreams.
The sun sinks, the world turns, and rinse, and repeat, and rinse, and repeat...
