Thursday, October 22, 2009

I Need You To Pretend That We Are In Love Again (or: It's been a while.)

Fragility is utterly terrifying. I realized last night, while with J., that I avoided what I imagined was a hostile reception at school, a knowing reception. I claimed sickness, and stayed home. Sleeping, mostly. Recovering from a weekend spent running around Manhattan and Brooklyn, trying to keep up with my friend, the Pearl Diver, and presenting a paper before an unsympathetic "analytic" audience. I barely slept. I barely was able to think on my feet. I was still able to dance. This is what is so frightening: when reduced to the ultimate bare minimum degree of functionality, I still can dance. Shoot a question regarding Plato, I parry; again with a volley on Aristotle, I deflect, absorb, pause... then fire. A deep breath, the fire of reckless daring, and I fire. The question, so triumphant, so haughty in its knowing conceit... it limps now, shot through the knee: unable to swagger. I smile, a drunken smile--tinted green and hazy (I want to be, after all, a sailor--and a murderer, and a poet).

I am afraid of revealing before J. the weaknesses that make me fundamentally human. The notion that after seeing and hearing such abjection he would be so thoroughly repulsed, so wholly put-off... I fear and loath my own frailty. Without sounding too presumptuous, I think it is impossible to fully divulge oneself to another human being and have that wholesale outpouring received, reciprocated, and loved. Fundamentally, we are ugly creatures. We adorn ourselves with some many trappings, so many disguises, so many postures--all to conceal what we most fear.

It is, I think, more likely that we allow ourselves to, as if in a peek-a-boo box, flash those moments of disgusting human frailty. But these moments are dispersed--not only in time, but in space: we reveal certain moments of ourselves to others--but only so much.

I think this is why we need friends. Nietzsche writes, of the friend, "A friend should be a master at guessing and keeping still: you must not want to see everything. Your dream should betray to you what your friend does while awake.//Your compassion should be a guess--to know first whether your friend wants compassion. Perhaps what he loves in you is the unbroken eye and the glance of eternity. Compassion for a friend should conceal itself under a hard shell, and you should break a tooth on it. That way it will have delicacy and sweetness."

And, "You do not want to put on anything for your friend? Should it be an honor for your friend that you give yourself to him as you are? But he sends you to the devil for that. He who makes no secret of himself, enrages: so much reason have you for fearing nakedness."

And, from The Things People Call Love--"... Here and there on earth we may encounter a kind of continuation of love in which this possessive craving of two people for each other gives way to a new desire and lust for possession--a shared higher thirst for an ideal above them. But who knows such love? Who has experienced it? Its right name is friendship."

Friendship, for Nietzsche, is the 'venue' in which the slivers of despair may be exposed, to be shown so as to be ridiculed, mocked, laughed into oblivion. For lovers who one trusts--with one's body: such laughter is curative.

3 comments:

William said...

Although I relish in the fact I am indestructible I am as you aptly described, an ugly creature.

I've come for the year 1987 and through my travels I find/have been fortunate enough to come across people who are inherently good people. Which haven't been christened with a deep contempt and cynicism for the world as it is nor perverted with an eternal struggle of weighing up what is morally right or wrong (I'm not a nihilist so I'm allowed to get on my moral high horse)

Although it is a testament to our humanity that we can pull ourselves out of the deep and dark cavernous vagina of hell, and proceed to do what is inherently good for the micro & macro population of altruists/good samaritans whilst fighting the never ending battle of internal conflict of self worth, frailty and calibrating our moral compasses to point true north and not magnetic north, me personally I personally find such a feat would be insurmountable if it weren't for the aformentioned altruists/good samaritans (not to be confused with patients with bono-syndrome) who aren't filled with conflict but with a sense of peace that they live in. And I can't help but feel all giddy inside when I relish in their sweetness that I'm willing to suffer late onset diabetes for it just so I know the trek out of the cavernous reaches of hell's vagina was worth it.

William said...

EDIT: I choose to perform deeds of good to people who won't reciprocate it on a social level and have souls as wholesome as the flavour of pavement. Possible reasoning is because they still deserve to have those good deeds, even if it bites me in the arse.

Danielle Renae said...

I like this friend :-) Miss you.