schweblog

It has been a long time since I spent any significant period of time in your cave.

Things still creak.  Unusual features stick out in my memory and punctuate just how long it has been—the weird shelves, the desk that’s really a door, the low ceiling.  It—and I suppose you, by extension—smell pretty much the same.  Nothing has changed.

I remember that peculiar night so long ago.

Your sink was full of dishes and your bed was sunk in the middle.  For a long time there I forgot what your face looked like when it wasn’t seen through the lens of a camera and that scared me.  You were never that interested in figuring me out, but I like to think this hinted at an enjoyment that wasn’t cognitive at all.  Everything has changed.

I think the issue was always one of knowing, even though it probably doesn’t matter any more.

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‘

More than that: the chance, the fate, that suffuse the past before my eyes are conspicuously present in the accustomed confusion of these books.  For what else is this collection but a disorder to which habit has accommodated itself to such an extent that it can appear as an order?

—Walter Benjamin, “Unpacking My Library”

I do not consider myself a collector.  Quite the opposite, really—the burden of objects weighs heavy on me and I purge often, with gusto and without hesitation.  Books, though, hold a special place in my heart, more than any other category of objects I own.  Here are a few of my favorite pieces from the collection that resides just a few feet from my bed:

Religious "literature"

I acquired this gem over the summer when I was visited by some really nice people who turned out to be Jehovah’s Witnesses.  The beauty of this text is its utility.  When I encounter other door-to-door proselytizers (typically Mormons, but I’ve seen all sorts in this neighborhood), I’ll grab this book and turn the tables.  Plus, the illustrations are really good for a laugh.

People of all ages and races worship the "True God" by...trekking mountain paths (?)

Abercrombie & Fitch Quarterly, Issue 25, "Back to School 2003"

This was given to me by my good friends, Alex and Adam, and stands out as one of the most thoughtful gifts I have ever received from anyone.  I generally avoid Abercrombie & Fitch products—and catalogues—but this one stands out as a fascinating cultural artifact because it has commentary from Slavoj Žižek, a significant figure in contemporary Continental philosophy.

Pretty much

When asked about his choice to provide copy for the quarterly by the Boston Globe, Žižek said, “If I were asked to choose between doing things like this to earn money and becoming fully employed as an American academic, kissing ass to get a tenured post, I would with pleasure choose writing for such journals!”  Brilliant.

Published in Rolling Stone Magazine

Shortly after David Foster Wallace’s suicide in September 2008, Rolling Stone put out the best eulogy/article on him that I know of.  I made a point of purchasing the magazine for this article alone (the version made available online is severely amended to its detriment).  I later snipped the article out and got rid of the rest of the magazine, but this piece gets read once every few months.

The beloved tome

I read Infinite Jest for the first time in the summer of 2007.  It changed my perspective on damn near everything and continues to pop into my head quite often.  I’ll be rereading it this summer.  With two bookmarks, of course.

The sign of a truly loved book

Ms. G's favorite

My favorite teacher in high school was Kay Goodman.  She taught me how to act, cast me as Mercutio, and was probably the most passionate person I have ever met.  She loved what she did and I remember her often as I think about my probable future as a teacher.  When You Comin’ Back, Red Ryder? was one of Ms. Goodman’s favorite plays.  She was diagnosed with ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease) a few months into my sophomore year.  The disease attacks nerve tissue, but targets different nerve tissue in each person.  In Ms. Goodman’s case, it went straight for her throat.  Just a year after the diagnosis, she lost the ability to enunciate words, forcing her to retire prematurely.  Watching her exhaust herself directing our last play together stands out as one of the most tragic things I have ever witnessed.  Months before her retirement (and just a year or two before her death), I volunteered to help her clean out a closet.  She let me keep whatever I found on the shelves of books and plays.  I took this book.  It still has her notes in it.

Five males, three females

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This is one part letter to self, one part letter to friends, and one part speculation.

I have both endured and helped friends endure heartbreak of varying degrees.  In spite of it all, it seems like our generation doesn’t really suffer from an overabundance of heartbreak, but a profound deficit of risk-taking.  While unreciprocated love has always received some attention in cultures of practically every sort, it seems to be the dominant theme these days.  We are the generation of pining, sitting on one’s hands, and avoiding grand gestures for fear of rejection.

It’s not so much that the feelings aren’t there.  Love is nigh unavoidable.  The willingness to put it out on the line and explain to another person exactly how you feel, though—the gesture of really, truly exposing your deepest sentiments—is what freaks most people out.  And it’s not like this is anything new.  Only now our generation’s heroes are the ones that wallow in their self-pitying longing and have to be pushed over the edge by external circumstances or desperation, rarely will power (see, e.g., the cultural epics of 90s television, Friends and Sex and the City).

Similarly, there is a lack of grand gestures in the other direction as well.  Breakups are rarely actual breakups—instead, a breakup merely signals the start of a series of ambiguous and painful hookup sessions with your ex and other people to the point of exhaustion for both parties.  The door never completely shuts because, hey, neither party was really willing to ever make a grand gesture in the first place that would have really tested both parties’ mettle.  And so it goes.

Faced with difficulties that inevitably arise from these norms—and they really are becoming the norm—I dispense one bit of advice: figure your shit out.  This entails a whole number of commitments, duties, and general provisions.  To wit:

1. Don’t start a relationship (emotional, physical, or otherwise) when someone else is on your radar.  Even if the someone else is geographically distant, taken, or otherwise unavailable.  If you’re unsure about someone, make a grand gesture that adequately expresses how you feel, even if that’s mostly confusion.  If you don’t know what constitutes a grand gesture, ask yourself if you’re completely comfortable doing X.  If the answer is no, then it’s probably a grand gesture.  The other person’s response will almost always give you enough certainty to pull out of the gray area.  On that note…
2. You will never be absolutely certain about anything.  People change.  Relationship dynamics change.  The other person might decide that they prefer members of the opposite/same gender.  Or maybe they’ll become a furry, or decide that they have some other fetish that you can’t satisfy, or that celibacy seems like a good idea.  Who knows?  The fact that certainty is impossible doesn’t give you carte blanche to be a jackass, though.  As such…
3. There will be a gamble involved.  Everything is contingent.  Take a deep breath and suck it up.  With great risk comes great reward.  You won’t become a millionaire playing the penny slots.  If you make the gamble, though, make the fucking gamble.  Commit yourself to it.  Really try the other person on for size.  Make some grand gestures.  You can’t do that with some other potential partner on the horizon.  Which is why the first step is so important.

This clearly isn’t a surefire way to avoid heartbreak, but it’s really the only way to be an authentic, decent person.  And really, the lack of authentic, decent people is probably at the root of all this other bullshit.

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