a secondhand emotion
I’ve been nervous to listen to Sufjan Stevens’ Age of Adz since everything went down with David. I listened to this album when he said that he liked it, and then, suddenly, I liked it too. “Words are futile devices,” the opening song ends. I'm listening to it for the second time ever. I sent him a flurry of brain-dead emails earlier, and the kicker is that, in contrast to yesterday or the day before or the day before, I’m not really even feeling him today. I just wanted someone to talk to and some kind of connection, I guess.
I slept for 12 hours and woke up feeling that kind of dissociated heady feeling that makes being human feel impossible, that makes writing and talking feel both eye-roll annoying and extremely difficult. Classes were canceled today, so, aside from a couple of office hours meetings, the day has been pretty relaxed. I walked with Garol and Lizzie. Lizzie brought me the PTSD book and some pot tinctures. She made me a sweet card, too. It's self-hatred, I know, but I read these sweet things, and it's like how Michael treats Anne on Arrested Development. Her?
I think I want really badly to believe in love. I mean, I think I have loved and I think I have felt in love. I don’t know if it’s the medications or if it was the sleep, but today, I’m not sure about any of this. I'm calling myself out here. I can easily see myself just as friends with David, and, honestly, right now, I would much rather prefer that. Like good friends, maybe? Flirty friends? But I don’t want to like…have sex with him or anything. At least not right now. Maybe in the future, future Cameron would want that. But not right now. Honestly, I don’t really even know this person. Why was I so into him?
Memories of past Camerons: I like his way of thinking and I’m envious of it. I wish I could think like him. I mean, I know this is the reason. But is this love? I seemed to think so on Monday when I broke down to my core. Maybe this is part of rebuilding. Maybe this is the self-realization that comes with recognizing a mental problem. I remember in Écrits, Lacan has this illustration of a vase and two or three mirrors, and the thing he was trying to get at with this illustration is that we can never see all of our psychosis. We see what the mirrors point to. We need an analyst to see us fully-or something like that. I lost faith in Lacan a long time ago, but that illustration has stuck with me.
I spoke with Ronit yesterday and she truth-talked me. I told her the situation and she freaked out: you’re moving where? Why would you do that to yourself? This person sounds entirely unstable, and you don’t need to put any of that in your life. Cameron, you are both too damaged and depressed for a relationship to work. She’s absolutely right. Nevertheless. But also, is it really nevertheless?
I’m listening to this album now and, like, the first song was sweet and touched me, but did I feel it? I’m listening to the song “Age of Adz” now. It resonates, definitely. But I have no libido, and I’m recognizing patterns of self-sabotage and self-hatred interfering with any prospect of a functional relationship. Here, I have fucking Edward the clown dancing around thinking that this is what I want and need in my life. I wonder how spectacularly this relationship will fall apart when I leave for Maryland. Edward, how will you goofy dance when I'm 2000 miles away? Can’t say I never tried.
I think my brother might be right. I need to spend more time with myself, find out what I like, find out who I am by myself. I need to love that person. And herein lies the problem. What is love? That feeling of despair and passion and excited grasping and fantasizing that I felt and maybe will feel again for David tomorrow-is that love? Or is the dedication that I feel for Edward love? The sensitivity I have toward their feelings? What about the love for my dog? Love is a fucking complex polysemy network, and who’s to say which love is love?
This song does nothing for me right now. This album is what I thought it was going to be: indie pop. Maybe slightly better than other indie pop, but indie pop nonetheless. I’m switching over to Nocturnal Emissions. Maybe I should start the Nurse With Wound list and be a pretentious jerk. Maybe that’s the new identity I need to cocoon into. Or maybe I just need more sleep.
I slept for 12 hours and woke up feeling that kind of dissociated heady feeling that makes being human feel impossible, that makes writing and talking feel both eye-roll annoying and extremely difficult. Classes were canceled today, so, aside from a couple of office hours meetings, the day has been pretty relaxed. I walked with Garol and Lizzie. Lizzie brought me the PTSD book and some pot tinctures. She made me a sweet card, too. It's self-hatred, I know, but I read these sweet things, and it's like how Michael treats Anne on Arrested Development. Her?
I think I want really badly to believe in love. I mean, I think I have loved and I think I have felt in love. I don’t know if it’s the medications or if it was the sleep, but today, I’m not sure about any of this. I'm calling myself out here. I can easily see myself just as friends with David, and, honestly, right now, I would much rather prefer that. Like good friends, maybe? Flirty friends? But I don’t want to like…have sex with him or anything. At least not right now. Maybe in the future, future Cameron would want that. But not right now. Honestly, I don’t really even know this person. Why was I so into him?
Memories of past Camerons: I like his way of thinking and I’m envious of it. I wish I could think like him. I mean, I know this is the reason. But is this love? I seemed to think so on Monday when I broke down to my core. Maybe this is part of rebuilding. Maybe this is the self-realization that comes with recognizing a mental problem. I remember in Écrits, Lacan has this illustration of a vase and two or three mirrors, and the thing he was trying to get at with this illustration is that we can never see all of our psychosis. We see what the mirrors point to. We need an analyst to see us fully-or something like that. I lost faith in Lacan a long time ago, but that illustration has stuck with me.
I spoke with Ronit yesterday and she truth-talked me. I told her the situation and she freaked out: you’re moving where? Why would you do that to yourself? This person sounds entirely unstable, and you don’t need to put any of that in your life. Cameron, you are both too damaged and depressed for a relationship to work. She’s absolutely right. Nevertheless. But also, is it really nevertheless?
I’m listening to this album now and, like, the first song was sweet and touched me, but did I feel it? I’m listening to the song “Age of Adz” now. It resonates, definitely. But I have no libido, and I’m recognizing patterns of self-sabotage and self-hatred interfering with any prospect of a functional relationship. Here, I have fucking Edward the clown dancing around thinking that this is what I want and need in my life. I wonder how spectacularly this relationship will fall apart when I leave for Maryland. Edward, how will you goofy dance when I'm 2000 miles away? Can’t say I never tried.
I think my brother might be right. I need to spend more time with myself, find out what I like, find out who I am by myself. I need to love that person. And herein lies the problem. What is love? That feeling of despair and passion and excited grasping and fantasizing that I felt and maybe will feel again for David tomorrow-is that love? Or is the dedication that I feel for Edward love? The sensitivity I have toward their feelings? What about the love for my dog? Love is a fucking complex polysemy network, and who’s to say which love is love?
This song does nothing for me right now. This album is what I thought it was going to be: indie pop. Maybe slightly better than other indie pop, but indie pop nonetheless. I’m switching over to Nocturnal Emissions. Maybe I should start the Nurse With Wound list and be a pretentious jerk. Maybe that’s the new identity I need to cocoon into. Or maybe I just need more sleep.