Can I speak freely?

or does this make me a bad person?

Can I speak freely? It’s sunny and beautiful today but I don’t want to go outside. Does that make me a bad person? I don’t believe laziness is real, but I do believe in not wanting to feel eyes on you. I guess you would call that a lack of energy for human connection. I’ve been thinking about the dialectic of connection, specifically that co-dependence isn’t all bad, and that gender roles can be fun, and also, can parents really love their children without loving themselves? I’m tired of people telling people how to live. I prefer observing examples and choosing what interests me. I recently learned about a cult that was obsessed with buying stock in the dead enterprise formerly known as Bed, Bath & Beyond. They met ritualistically over Zoom, studying for clues of the upcoming resurrection in a children’s book under the moniker Teddy and the Piggy Bank. What it really came down to was they found community in other people in the Bed Bath psychosis who found them interesting, who listened to their ideas, and believed in their dreams. I often struggle paying attention when someone is relaying their dreams, almost like the moment they begin describing it, an alien language pours from their mouths and the words begin melting together into an unintelligible glob. Does this mean I don’t care? No, it just means dreams are hard to describe, and maybe they aren’t telling me the dream because they actually want me to know, but because they are afraid if they don’t say it out loud, they will lose it, it will disappear into the black hole of dreams. I heard from someone that minds aren’t limited to the body, they float around and say hi to birds and bastards and benevolent stars and the malevolent ones as well while we are in the kitchen making a turkey sandwich. They don’t discriminate. Minds will talk to anyone. I like the idea of my mind having tea with the neighbors, oh wait, it just happened, I pictured it with my mind, therefore my mind had tea. It’s actually a very simple concept. Our minds are always traveling. I could write my own children’s book about it: Where Did Billy’s Mind Go Today? Billy could be sick at home with the flu but his mind travels to school and sees the teacher telling class, Billy is sick today. Where Is My Mind is a song by somebody. Also, losing your mind as a metaphor makes sense. Mind ran away. Not loyal.

Can I speak freely? The thing about me is if I hear another perspective, I think it’s true because how can a perspective not be true? It’s like telling someone you’re not angry or not hungry or your bug bite doesn’t itch. I’m easily influenced, very easily. I’ve always wondered what it’s like to be someone who sees the world as a complete sentence. People make videos like they are god. Sermon on the mounted tripod. For me, life is much more squishy and transforming like cuttlefish shapeshifting, not just color, but texture. Someone told me that biting your nails is cannibalistic. I don’t eat myself anymore. It’s been nearly 6 months.

Can I speak freely? Probably not because speaking means thoughts and feelings have gone through a word filter. A symbol of an idea is not the idea. It also has a life of its own. The person listening to you has their own relationship to word symbols. Do you ever feel closest to people when you are together, and no one is talking? Like words break a spell. The person who asks you, what are you thinking? Keep that one around. That is true intimacy. They asked because they could feel you were thinking, but wanted more details. wow. hot. I would like to write a love song called FEEL MY THOUGHTS. I would like to write a breakup song called why can’t you feel my thoughts anymore?

Can I speak freely? I think we went a bit overboard in claiming that half the population is horrible. I actually think there are very few horrible people. Anomalies, really. Like when you go to a restaurant and the food is inedible. It can happen. It’s just not that often. Especially if you’re not so picky you can appreciate a side of fries even if they fucked up the eggs. I have this neighbor I used to hate because I believed he was hateful. So then I was hating him for doing something I was doing. It didn’t really make sense. And it went against my instincts. My instincts are not to hate people. But these days, that makes you a bad person. I think we are all just worried about getting in trouble. I think we are all scared children who don’t want to be punished.

Can I speak freely? They say it’s impossible in the digital realm. They say everyone is hiding and everything is performative. Last night I sat on my porch smoking a Parliament Light and asked myself, "What is it that I really want to say?” Maybe I’m not making sense. Maybe speaking freely means you won’t make sense. Maybe we are not complete sentences. Maybe we are just fragments. Unintelligible globs. Dreams we can’t remember. Minds sunbathing in another person’s lawn next to another person’s poodle.