Oh The Things We Could Do

Recently I said that my life had become a consumption of film and people. How things change.

I’m still desperately consuming people, as much as possible, at every opportunity.

I am also taking particular note of every keyboard I type on. This, for example is a… Mac… thing… keyboard. It is not a laptop but has the style of keyboard currently increasing in popularity that Apple seem to be including with every product and other brands seem to follow suit. Square, flat keys, spaces between, and what feels like laptop standard 2.2mm travel, perhaps less. I like the travel distance, I don’t like the resistance as it requires too much force, I don’t like the gaps between keys, or perhaps rather the square-edged walls of the keys themselves.

The perfect keyboard… I still think I preferred my old diNovos, they had a rather metallic feel to them. I did consider the new diNovo but it lists the same PerfectTouch or whatever technology that my K800 does, so presumably they have the same plastic feel. I’m getting accustomed to the plastic feel, it’s not so bad, and the in-between travel distance is also decent given the low force required to type.

Dulldom out of the way.

I also changed two of my profiles to ‘Culture destruction’ and ‘Burn everything’. That makes a lot of sense, no need to explain.

My life has become a study in boredom. That’s a whole lot more interesting than it sounds, unless it sounds interesting to you in which case it’s precisely as interesting as it sounds. Active… boredom… is a curious one to attempt to explain but that’s the sort of thing I do for kicks these days, examine the mechanics of everything because well why not, particularly when you have the time.

Apple pay particular attention to the way their mouse clicks sound, don’t they? As in the physical, mechanical sound. They’ve always sounded the same. Actually, for some reason, so has their hard-drive activity. Odd. Or probably not. That’s not praise, mind. I don’t care either way, but I imagine it has to do with establishing consistency in order to serve marketing on a subconscious level. We are often at our most agile when we’re mercenary, and we’re often at our most mercenary when we want money. Don’t look at me with those doe-eyes and tell me Apple care a jot for how much easier they want to make computing for you. There’s nothing wrong with them primarily wanting your money, just understand that primarily, they want your money.

I digress.

Active boredom means every time I exhaust what I perceive as the currently available permutations given the subset of rules engaged, I start dissecting why those rules enact the way they do. I theorise about how they came about, how they are engaged in a broader dynamic over time, over repeated instances. I start iterating (drink!) on what can disrupt it, how it can evolve, often iterating into absurd theoretics.

Boredom with people is the toughest. It stings the most, it provokes the most disappoint, no – disappointment isn’t enough. It isn’t enough to encapsulate this hunger, it’s dissatisfaction.

I am dissatisfied.
I am so dissatisfied.

I guess this is a SOC piece and besides, I’m paranoid of internet stability and the complete lack of it in this country. It’s best I save.

I don’t… I don’t think of people I’ve grown bored of in a derogatory way. It may be a hard thing to communicate, but I don’t think of them as being defective in some way or being any lesser. I don’t deny that I am a horrendous elitist, but I maintain that I don’t cast a negative frame over those with which I’ve grown bored. The problem isn’t that there aren’t enough facets, elements, dynamics, mechanics, it’s that they’re not all in play at the same time all of the time.

All of the time.
That’s… not precisely accurate. By all of the time I mean right now, and by right now I mean the last six weeks. If I’m not elevated as I am at present, then I operate at a much slower speed, with a reduced permutation set. All the algorithms are still there and available, I just engage fewer of them at once. I iterate slower. I pause more and I’m probably more prone to listen. Getting me to listen at the moment is extremely difficult.

I do want to listen. Actually, in elevation, I want to listen more than I ever would normally (normally…). In a low state, I don’t want to listen at all, well, actually, I want to listen to a lot but to humans, not at all. I could go without seeing them for months on end and be happy. Nevertheless, the natural state of being in elevation is the opposite. I am hungry – starving, for good dialogue. Good dialogue that takes time, that takes development, that takes serious iteration and evolution. It takes energy. It takes not sleeping.
You see where I’m going with that.

The difficulty is in dispensing with this energy all of the time. It just keeps coming and I barely know what to do with it. I’ll approach someone innocently enough (ha!) and begin, often quite gently, a discussion. As soon as I start iterating though (which is usually immediately), I’m off and running and folks either can’t catch up , don’t want to or do it extremely slowly.

One of the results of not receiving input/feedback is that I start trying to provoke it. I keep pushing, I keep adding more fuel, more chemical, more movement… it’s not really a good way to be. Most people are either overwhelmed or bored themselves because I’m talking too quickly about what seems to be inconsequential probably because it is, except it isn’t. I just watched this amazing short film about neorealism and film before I drove over here and it was all about these seemingly inconsequential moments that were in an original cut of a film. They were amazing. They made the film amazing (I’ve not seen the entire feature at all). I was happy just seeing these extraneous pieces, this footage that had been edited out, particularly in the context of the discussion because they were so beautiful and meaningful.

It’s not that I offer a flood of the wrong kinds of details, it’s that I offer a flood of all details at once, and all at the same value which is to say maximum (I’ve reached that level of self-referentialism, even if the context is slightly different. That’s just great). Instead of iterating silently and testing ten things to offer one, I tend to… no I’ll stop myself there. I do produce ten permutations, test them and choose one, it’s just happening extremely quickly. Then often what happens is I try to give one permutation a rough conclusion, then go back and develop another one and I’d likely keep going if I were to be free of interruption.

And it’s interruption that I’m hungry for.

There is an amazing thing – I’m truly sad for you if you’ve not experienced it though it’s… common (I’ll say…) enough that you likely have at least once. It’s truly amazing when you tender an idea to someone and they immediately parse it and iterate in the best way possible that you hand the thing back and forth between you and you always know where the other person has gone, and you have an implicit trust that they won’t get lost when you take the idea elsewhere and every time they don’t get lost, every time they run with it and confirm their comprehension and then affirm it by iterating/evolving further, there’s this stupendous feeling of swift flight. That is amazing. You should do it. You should spend the next forever in pursuit of it until you get it and then you can rest, but you should definitely try to cultivate it. You must. At least once (I implore, like a drug dealer, because once experienced, you will be addicted and compelled and that is good and right).

Save.

Not everyone is primed for connection all of the time. In turn, I am not always primed for connection all of the time. So what. I’m primed for connection now and I don’t mind being petulant in saying that you should be to. What does it mean to be primed for connection?

It means you more or less have no inhibitions, at all. I don’t think you’ll understand that until you experience, and I mean truly without inhibition. None of this foggy drunken bullshit. You’ll know. It has a high component of adrenaline and a tiny regard for dignity – there is no feeling like it. Perhaps you do have to be bipolar to experience it – best of luck to you.

It means you stop thinking about whether or not you’ll look or sound cool.

It means when you find two permutations and one appears gentler but vague and the other appears riskily insensitive but true, you choose uncomfortable and potentially offensive truth because surely – why would you not? It just makes sense. Because in that moment it’s not about sparing the other person’s feelings, it’s about revealing/discovering/deciphering/creating/nurturing something true. I usually don’t crap on about ‘truth’ because overall it’s been over-romanticised but fuckit, there’s a thing about truth and it’s far from noble, mostly it’s just more interesting and perversely and grotesquely powerful.

It means after you do that, you think about it and you apologise to the other person should their feelings have been hurt, and in some ways you may actually regret having said it but you know you could not have not said it – that you must choose the more interesting and more challenging form of something and offer it, throw it, tempt with it etc.

It means that when you perceive an opportunity for great iteration, you’re energised rather than fatigued – you generate energy in anticipation of vast exploration, you start making decisions in the pragmatic that may not actually be in the best interests of your physical health, in order to facilitate and fully extract every precious gem from the time you suspect you’ll be given.

It means that when faced with the ultimatum that either something new, dangerous and wonderful will be built or everything including cursory pleasantries will be lost, you choose to take that risk and throw all your building materials into play.

It means knowing that after doing all of that, after consciously accepting a stupendous level of exposure, that of all the unexpected results that are possible, the most likely one will be disappointment. Dissatisfaction.

Dissatisfaction.

I drive in my car and I blast something loud, brash, brimming with bravado and overflowing with enthusiasm. It means I burn the very night, I deconstruct everything and I isolate myself in order to create a headspace big enough to burn all that disappointment and dissatisfaction.

I realise now, that these entries have become something of a chronicle of what it’s like for me to be bipolar. I specifically say ‘what it’s like for me’ because to say ‘what it’s like to be bipolar’ would be grossly incorrect. I have no idea what it’s like for you to be bipolar and even if a lot of this or even all of it sounds familiar, we still share nothing. Well, not exactly, but yes exactly. I’m the only one in here living this, and it’s the same for you.

Why do it? Actually I’ve been extremely curious on that subject for the last couple of weeks. This is a fair level of exposure regardless of how unlikely it is that anyone would read it, so why?

Desperation – yes, definitely.
Hunger.
Addiction.
Compulsion – compulsion – yes yes, definitely. To be compelled.
Boredom.
Inspiration.
Documentation.

Blah.
Save.

I am attempting to create something.
Wait, no.
I am attempting to get all of this crap out of my system here, sectioned, so that I can at least on a minimal level gate it from you in real life. I wasn’t bullshitting about that lack of inhibition, most days I’m bordering on throwing all of this at all of you all of the time. That simply doesn’t work. I don’t know what works. I don’t know what opportunities you people are looking for and when on earth you expect them to come your way. I have no idea what strange, mystical conditions need to be met for you to be primed to receive this stuff. Almost every word that springs from my mouth is an exercise in self control and that statement in itself is already hilarious considering some of the shit I say.

I’m writing out all this crap here so that I know I’ve got it somewhere and one day I’ll point you in the right direction and you can play catch up on all the years you’ve missed.

Seriously it’s bugging me now, this dissatisfaction is turning to irritation. What actually is it that you’re waiting for? I don’t understand. Hey fuckit, I don’t care if it’s with me or not but jesus I want to see something. Yes, OK that makes sense – it’s none of my goddamn business but I don’t care – I’m selfish, hungry, desperate, carnivorous, I want to see some faint trace of life in you so that I’m convinced you’re alive the rest of the time because christ you’re barely alive when I’m around.

No.
That’s a lie.
I want you to be alive around me. We don’t have to be besties or lovers or even super close but at the very least (which is actually terrible of me to use a reductive term, given the context) we should be able to talk about everything (see?).

(Pause).

I’m an idiot.
Years back I was exactly the same and the truth is I now completely lack the patience required to deal with a person who is exactly the way I was. That’s shit isn’t it. You know, I have no idea what would have worked for me. Is it really just time? Is it really an almost definable threshold of experience that once crossed, begins to establish wisdom, prowess, confidence and a willingness towards vulnerability? That’s a complex statement – it entails the ability to repair, regenerate in the face of injury should that exposure permit something harmful. See it is a big deal, it really isn’t easy at all…

But you get here.
You get to where I am and all you want to do is keep going, keep plunging forward and keep discovering and building and seeing and appreciating and loving more.

Fuck.

That feeling of waiting around for everyone else while at the same time not being able to stop yourself from running ahead with gleeful delight, all the while getting farther and farther from everyone else.

That’s almost tragic but fuckit, it’s a lot of fun. I’m bound to run into someone or something at some point and if I don’t, I’d rather die of starvation of good people than have to suffer bad ones (ooooooooh and the concept of there being no such thing as a bad person – yeah I know, but humour me for the form this evening, after all it fits, doesn’t it?)

I guess that’s a big part of the foundation as to why – why I write. Because I know I’ll read it again. I’ll read it at least once tomorrow and then if not the next day, then the day after that. Should I ever think to share it with someone else, before or after I email them the link, I’ll read it again. If I someone tells me that they’ve read it, I’ll read it again.

I wasn’t kidding this week when I mention my narcissism. I don’t mind being so horribly self-assured. It’s better than being listless, directionless, artless, neutral and worst of all boring.