This is not a depressing post believe it or not. I’m not often feeling such um…I think equanimity is the word. Living in my van I have many inconveniences. The most perennial problem is looking for a shady spot to chill a minute and keep my ice chest cooler.
Recently I’ve take no to the perspective that being comfortable is often too difficult to justify the effort.
I say “It’s ok, I’ll just suffer more” and laugh out loud. I realized how twisted I have become a few days ago.
So I locked my keys in my car and struggled with it in the sun for about 20 minutes. After I unlocked it I got an applause from the folks at the bar across the street. I had no idea they were watching. So I waved and had a moment of celebration.
Then I pulled my towel off the top of my van. I had forgotten that I had placed a rock I was using as a hammer on the towel.
It fell right on top of my big toe
And I laughed.
No ouch. No “Jesus!” No resentment. The emotion was “of course I’m experiencing randomly pain again. Whatever. This neutrality toward pain is such an unusual mix of feelings that I must laugh.”
Am I just that cynical? No, I know that it was my karma. I put it there. If everything is my fault then why did I make the universe hit my toe with a rock?
It must be because I hate myself. I ought to stop doing that. It hurts.
How do I love myself? Just asking the question is a good place to start. I’ve heard in church that the faucet is the first to get the water. So loving others is a way to experience self love.
But I digress from the title of this post. I’m sick of I comfort. Well that’s good news because making connections with others hurts me. Well it doesn’t hurt per se, but connections remind me of the complexity of the human dramas.
My own drama is plenty thank you. Who the fuck am I thanking! Your the internet. No one is reading this blog.
Ok, I guess I’m saying that I’m tolerant of physical discomfort to the point that typical Americans would regard me as a masochist. E.g. I sit on the ground more than in chairs. I could complain about it or I could just get used to sitting on the ground.
However! When it comes to social discomfort I become a total pussy. (Lets not use that word. I prefer the term ‘coward’ which is really more accurate.)
You know what it is. With physical pain its here and it goes. It’s transitory. The pain of society is infinite and incecently demanding of attention…..well thats what it feels like in the social media world.
Ok I’ll admit that society and friends of any kind annoys me but social media just makes it that much worse. The dinger of interruption via false pocket gods (smart phones) reminds me of Harrison Bergeron. It’s a short dystopian story where the more intelligent people are required to have thought interruption devices installed in their heads to promote equality.
Anyway, barring my prejudice against the medium of social media human drama is……oh shit.
I just realized an alternative way for me to connect with people instead of social media: staged drama.
What’s the niche in the market right now? What aren’t people doing? Spoken word and other LIVE performances.
Well fuck me sideways. Is this the choice? Come out the closet (or van in my case) via social media or live performance? Everybody just needs a damned singing dancing monkey to relieve them from there boring ass lives in this poor excuse for a homo saipan habitat.
Why do we lust after entertainment so desparately that a Netflix binge is considered normal and not a cry for help? And some of us binge on stuff that makes us uncomfortable. Like Mr. Robot. Fsociety. We actually crave discomfort because we can’t experience discomfort from our couch. Erebody need some yin for dey yang mutha fucker!
Well thanks internet. I’m glad we had this disccussion. My next move will be to read and rehears the following story so I can entertain people live and in person. It’s one of my favorites. It’s called “The Story of That Something.” http://ithacachiropractic.com/story-something/
Wellness Adventurer 