The past couple of posts that you have written, I have found a resonance with them. Your replies, though less frequent, are very fulfilling for me. There was a cheekiness early on that I LOVED very much from you. But, what you give me now is more adult, less sweet or lurid, it’s deeper. Your words are more important now; they hold more weight. You always seem to write, right when I begin to miss you the most.
I mean this,
I love you very much.
But I still miss you (or the idea of you, or the fun version of you I had in my mind, or the no bullshit cokehead 25-year-old you)
But I like this you. It’s lovely.
Thank you. I don’t miss the 25-year-old cokehead me, but it’s nice to know that crazy bitch left an indelible mark on something other than my liver. A decade ago someone asked me how I maintained, and I remember acknowledging the fact that I would eventually have to move the party up the hill. That’s what I’ve done, emotionally, spiritually, and professionally. When I left Los Angeles, I cashed in my youth for a greater sense of purpose, and it was worth every ounce of cheekiness.
I have officially moved into the dinner party phase of life, and as you say, it’s more adult, less lurid, and much, much deeper. The fun part is recognizing that there’s a grand inevitability to it all. I see that in another ten years, I’ll be discovered by the teenage offspring of my original readers and looked upon as some decadent subcultural artifact from the aught years, an era of naiveté when we gave away our privacy for free and still believed that having a bumbling cowboy as President was the worst thing in the entire world.
In the meantime, I get to speak in my adult voice. You find resonance in that voice because we’re all adults now and we’re terrified to discover that not only are we the ones in charge, but that we’re all still faking it, our parents were all faking it, and every generation before us was faking it too. None of us have ever had any fucking idea how any of this works, and at any moment it could all end in thermonuclear war, or worse, because we were texting while driving.
The nihilist in me appreciates how little control we have over our own fate. My inner child has always been the type to let go of the handlebars, so I don’t mind one bit that we’re all hurtling rudderless into the void. I like this part. I’m really good at being the adult in the room, not because I have some special wisdom that comes with age, but because I’m perfectly comfortable with the fact that as a species, we are totally and completely full of shit.