He doesn't even know what day it is
There's something quite magical in 2017 about the motion of a full keyboard beneath your fingers. When this journal began in 2003, such was the norm. It was normal to be in a dark room, Pink Floyd on the CD player, lifetime playing the Golden Girls on the television set. The world was noisy then.
The world is still noisy. The Golden Girls are now on Hulu and consequently play whenever I'm in the same room as a television set; the teevee's are on constantly, almost as if in 1984. While active listening to Pink Floyd is now an historical act, the metaphors and tropes they defined and created are still there, still amongst the rubble of the wall. The keyboard has been replaced by a phone. In some, the changes are technological but the angst remains the same. Same as it ever was.
As time passed for 10 years, there was high school and college; there was food and alcoholism; there was homosexuality repressed and the closet broken open; there were epochs that despite the documentation simply do not make sense anymore. The journal began with the Golden Girls and there they are.
There have been many discoveries as to what and who Michael is. He is against the times, though he is part of them. He is an idiosyncratic conformist. Michael is the naked man, embracing an existential nihilism. There is a sense of right and wrong with a strong desire for absolutes, for certainty. The world, unfortunately, is not black and white. While binaries are useful, they are not life. There is too much nuance, too much searching for truth.
I'm no closer to a solution or resolution than in 2003. When departure was planned 10 years later, it was thought this would forever be in the past, an experiment to be forgotten. The world moves today in ways it hasn't in years.
In 2017, I have run a marathon, completed a program, aided in major kitchen remodeling, and landed a dream job. I have also lost a mentor, dealt with auto and home insurance claims, lost 3 roommates, and dug another financial (gambling) hole.
The universe indicates a precarious balance. The times of uncertainty are ahead. It is felt in the bones. 2018 will be a bittersweet year of growth. Same as it ever was.
The world is still noisy. The Golden Girls are now on Hulu and consequently play whenever I'm in the same room as a television set; the teevee's are on constantly, almost as if in 1984. While active listening to Pink Floyd is now an historical act, the metaphors and tropes they defined and created are still there, still amongst the rubble of the wall. The keyboard has been replaced by a phone. In some, the changes are technological but the angst remains the same. Same as it ever was.
As time passed for 10 years, there was high school and college; there was food and alcoholism; there was homosexuality repressed and the closet broken open; there were epochs that despite the documentation simply do not make sense anymore. The journal began with the Golden Girls and there they are.
There have been many discoveries as to what and who Michael is. He is against the times, though he is part of them. He is an idiosyncratic conformist. Michael is the naked man, embracing an existential nihilism. There is a sense of right and wrong with a strong desire for absolutes, for certainty. The world, unfortunately, is not black and white. While binaries are useful, they are not life. There is too much nuance, too much searching for truth.
I'm no closer to a solution or resolution than in 2003. When departure was planned 10 years later, it was thought this would forever be in the past, an experiment to be forgotten. The world moves today in ways it hasn't in years.
In 2017, I have run a marathon, completed a program, aided in major kitchen remodeling, and landed a dream job. I have also lost a mentor, dealt with auto and home insurance claims, lost 3 roommates, and dug another financial (gambling) hole.
The universe indicates a precarious balance. The times of uncertainty are ahead. It is felt in the bones. 2018 will be a bittersweet year of growth. Same as it ever was.