I'm not good at maintaining reasonable time intervals. At all. My last drink in Midnight had been emptied over a year ago, and in the meantime I've only glanced through the Pub's windows a few times when my feet brought me by. Patrons come and go, seasons change, worlds end. Could anyone even recollect my past visits here? Sojourner, a quiet melancholic poet from afar. Excuse me ~bartender, I'd be grateful for a large glass of absinthe, thank you!
Oh, what an excellent taste!
I must confess something. I'm really struggling with maintaining relationships with people, especially since the pandemic. Most of my acquaintances from before are now dispersed, occupied with their own lives, social circles and — increasingly — families. I often don't notice the lengthening time without contact. When I make myself aware of it and think about how to approach them… How do I come up with topics to talk about if smalltalk is so tiring for me? Would it be too weird to straight up suggest meeting in real life? Will they gladly find the time and not ghost my proposal again? Am I right to compete for their attention? What if they respond with monosyllables or half–answers, turning my attempts at sustaining the conversation into a grinding nuisance? I'm telling myself: I can't carry the initiative by myself for too long before getting mentally exhausted, so maybe let's not risk the awkwardness and rejection?
Why does online contact feel so artificial and forced? There are no non–verbal signals to enrich words, no physical presence to create a vessel for the intimacy of two minds. No way of establishing a mutually agreed pace, no shared experience of circumstances to guide the thoughts. No silences full of meaning, no comforting sight of a friendly human close by. No interplay of senses, no pledge of attention. Something deep in me rebels against this digitally encoded ersatz of life, rejects this mode of communication as being something normal. Yet I'm nearly incapable of breaking the barriers in my mind that keep me afraid of meeting and keeping up with people even offline, those old and new alike. Maybe it's a fear of vulnerability, of letting others see into the real fabric of my soul and being misunderstood, exploited or dismissed?
I've always been reserved and introverted, but not to a dysfunctional degree — I have a couple of good longtime friends, and while quiet, I consider myself a rather friendly person. My (self)isolation seems to be slowly getting worse and I can't will myself to oppose this process. A disastrous first non–crush infatuation has most probably played a major role in locking down my trust. I was a shy 18–year old boy, approached at school by a friend's ex–girlfriend. That was the stupidest year of my life so far, let me tell you. I fully realized just how brazenly I've been lied to and emotionally blackmailed only a few years after. Fake tearful history, fake psychosomatic problems, fake compassion, fake desire. An illusion crafted to extract ever more sympathy and involvement, until she couldn't keep escalating demands and left. "Don't worry sojourner, I'm sure you'll find someone else way sooner than me" were her parting words. That statement became untrue not even three months later. I've been unable to seek involved companionship ever since. I don't want to end up permanently broken by this unfortunate experience, I /should/ have worked it out by now — after all, it was just a juvenile clusterfuck like countless others. But here we are, ten years later.
Please understand that I'm not looking for pity, just wanted to get this off my chest — in the hope of some self–revelation, I suppose. Paradoxically, anonymous visit at a distant pub seems to help with opening up. Beverages may or may not play a role here. I'm sorry for somewhat spoiling this evening's mood. This is not something I enjoy talking about, so let's change the topic. Apparently some say that artists need to feel unhappy to create anything truly good — I'm not convinced. One of my favorite poets, Bolesław Leśmian, has created many incredibly gorgeous, joyful works and apparently lived a fulfilling life. His erotics are so passionate, warm, and expressive! It's a shame they are virtually untranslatable.
Anyway, I'll be writing dreamy poems at that table in the corner across the fireplace. I could read some later for common entertainment with the help of the green fairy, but they're not in English. Lots of rustling sh's, ch's, and zh's, blending into and dancing with the radiant, crackling fire.
You and I share some of the same past, high-level history.
My reaction to what you went through was to give up what I wanted (so desperately) altogether.
I told no one in particular that I was finished with looking. For anything.
I stuck to my word.
I made a lot of choices, did a lot of things, had a lot of experiences, but I didn’t go looking for any of it.
The trick is to dream about your destination while forgetting how to get there.
> Could anyone even recollect my past > visits here? Sojourner, a quiet > melancholic poet from afar.
I recollected your handle, but not any posting details. But I definitely possess an overall sense of "worth reading".
> How do I come up with topics to talk > about if smalltalk is so tiring for > me? Would it be too weird to straight > up suggest meeting in real life? Will > they gladly find the time and not > ghost my proposal again? Am I right > to compete for their attention? What > if they respond with monosyllables or > half–answers, turning my attempts > at sustaining the conversation into a > grinding nuisance?
Let a die (as in "dice") do the volitional heavy-lifting for you per:
The Dice Man> Why does online contact feel so > artificial and forced? There are no > non–verbal signals to enrich words, > no physical presence to create a vessel > for the intimacy of two minds. No way > of establishing a mutually agreed pace, > no shared experience of circumstances > to guide the thoughts. No silences > full of meaning, no comforting sight > of a friendly human close by. No > interplay of senses, no pledge > of attention. Something deep in me > rebels against this digitally encoded > ersatz of life, rejects this mode > of communication as being something > normal.
To me the content of that paragraph *after* the first sentence describes a relative incompleteness, so perhaps your effort to bring such to what feels more complete feels artificial and forced?
> Yet I'm nearly incapable of breaking > the barriers in my mind that keep > me afraid of meeting and keeping up > with people even offline, those old > and new alike. Maybe it's a fear of > vulnerability, of letting others see > into the real fabric of my soul and > being misunderstood, exploited or > dismissed?
I was rather shy my first 20 years of meat-space, but somehow came to the idea of *acting* like a confident someone with important things to be heard... and eventually the acting/pretend became the reality - i.e. the greater self-notion came to no longer see such as acting, but as part of Being Me.
Something like that....
(FWIW, a nice crutch to more quickly gain confidence momentum in the early days of such acting was to go places where I was unlikely to encounter anyone that knew me such that there was no one there to call - i.e. challenge - me on seemingly not being/acting myself.)
Making social decisions with dice is a *dicey* proposition, but surely worth at least conceptually meditating on.
Well, actions do shape character — deliberate, albeit at first purely performative, efforts at becoming something are bound to have lasting effect sooner or later. That works both ways, good and bad alike.
The nice crutch that you mention actually sounds like a good idea. I'm thinking about how to go about it. For now, I'm facing a few weeks with limited opportunities for such an experiment, but in may… We'll see what happens. Thank you for the food for thought!
I'm going to have to get back with it one of these days, because I'm finding difficulty in making choices increasing with age.
It takes balls, though.
Wait... check that... in fact, it takes *cubes*.... ;-)
I've mostly come to consider "free will" a wishful fantasy anyway, so in a way dice-choosing is a path of sorts to what might be referred to as "en-lightening-ment" - as in reduced burden over potential road forks.
Am I right to compete for their attention?
Yes, you are. Otherwise you will remain invisible. I believe that humans live a better life, when it includes mutual interaction. It may hurt (I certainly have had my share of this). But it also may nurture. Without it, we will dry up like a plant without water.
On the other hand, don't listen to me too closely, I'm just this old guy who happens to come here once in a while.
~bartender? Maybe my neighbor needs a hot milk with honey more than another absinthe, but ask him, if you would please be so kind. Thanks. And since it's early in the afternoon, I would like to have coffee with lots of milk, na, not cream, and a bowl of those wonderful cookies with spices ... thanks so much!
> I'm just this old guy who happens to > come here once in a while.
Same here... and now am I wondering where 61 fits in the overall pub age spectrum....
<imagines it seeming just shy of half a millennium to most of the patrons>
(FWIW, 61 happens to be my so-called "golden" birthday year.)
I'm rationally aware of this reality and can correctly identify its consequences, it's just… hard to subordinate my irrationalities to this higher–level understanding. They have a firm grasp on the powerful primæval layers of psyche. It's so strange that there are forces at play so opposite in nature and direction inside a single mind.
Whether coming from someone old or not, a reasonable point of view should be held in high regard. And repetition is the most effective way of internalization.
Don't worry, one (admittedly large) glass of absinthe is my self–imposed limit. I don't like getting too drunk too often anyway — there's a sweet spot that's very easy to overshoot and then it just gets bad to my stomach. I don't recall ever having hot milk with honey, but it sounds intriguing. Is it supposed to have some specific effect? I'll have one out of curiosity, thank you for the suggestion. Those cookies smell so good! I need to filch the recipe, mom would be happy to try it out.
I'm in the same position, somewhat. As far as feeling more isolated than ever in life. I was going to write a blog post about it earlier, but I looked down at my phone, sitting next to my laptop, and I thought: "there are about three people in the WORLD that I could call right now - my sister, a friend from childhood, or my therapist". That's it. I am "on the outs" with my family (besides my one sister), other friends have moved on during or before the pandemic (relocation, usually), and the apartment complex I live at is filled with people well over the age of 60 (I am 38). No real (genuine) "friendships" to be had there (at least not really fulfilling ones for me).
So, I continue on, and wait to move somewhere with more diversity in people (both in age and interests, backgrounds, etc.). And I have lived like this (mostly isolated) before - in 2009 I barely talked to my best friend (at THAT time), because of our own personal issues, but everything sort of "cleared up" or "resolved" (or, I became less isolated) when I ran into a different friend from the past, and we hit it off.
But again, some friendships fade and obscure. Or they grow toxic. And I have to do what's right for me in the end. I hope I cross paths with other folks in life (as in, IRL), and I do what I can to make that "path" open - I go to the grocery store everyday (even just for a soda), I hike when I can (at a nearby park), and hopefully by doing this, SOMETHING of interest happens, or SOMEONE of interest comes along.
There is only hope.
Thanks for your post, and for those who read this reply, thanks for reading that, too :)
I'm happy that you could find some value in the partially shared nature of our experience. In my eyes, most apartment buildings are basically human–size chicken farms — you either are away, or sit in your own box. There are hardly any opportunities to organically get to know one's neighbors short of an unsolicited ring to their door (o horror!) or a rare encounter in the elevator with one of the predominantly elderly inhabitants. Not longer than a month ago I've bumped into a completely unknown young man. As it turned out, he's been living there for over a year already. I haven't seen him before nor after this one instance.
While I completely agree that it's the best action to take in our situations, deliberately putting myself into situations with a heightened potential for talking to new people is a challenging concept for me, emotionally speaking. I definitely have some intense self–convincing to perform! May your hope bear its fruit in due time.
My first relationship, four and a half years ago, was largely unhappy, and I haven't had much more experience since. They aren't bad memories. It's difficult to identify with myself as I was at that time.
It isn't so much the consequences of scant experience on the understanding of romance which concerns me, so much as the lack of opportunities to express the evolution of my understanding; and my understanding has really evolved, in spite of the few channels through which it finds expression in my recent life.
Maybe in the next few years I'll feel more pressed for time. Our present world is so poorly designed to the end of fruitful socialization. I fantasize constantly about living alone in the woods, and perceive myself walking, reading, and writing to pass the time, or else simply sitting still. I feel more tired of people, rather than less, because of how skilled they seem to be at hurting themselves and others. But, all the same, people are constantly surprising me.
I raise a glass to your good health.
It feels like all our progress is headed towards turning everything into a plastic shell. Cheap to produce, easy to sell, quick to replace. Every aspect of life is being turned into an opportunity for monetization and automation, to the detriment of its depth. But people shouldn't be made into selfish hive machines. This will bite the modern society really hard down the road — and I'm not even talking about environmental issues. An alternative must be pursued, where some inconvenience is welcomed, some selflessness is virtuous, some patience rewarded.
Your fantasy is eerily close to mine. We would probably make good neighbors, living slowly across a meadow and a stream. Thoreauvian ideas are quite close to my heart. One chair for solitude, two for friendship, and three for society. If only living in such a simple way was more attainable!
To the health and blooming maturity of us and all!