This blog has seen many deaths. The last thing I wrote was titled, The Return of the Lost Generation.
There are many who claim that antidepressants stifle creativity. Years ago, at the height of my instability, my husband and I saw “A Beautiful Mind,” and I thought, if John Nash can cure himself of his schizophrenia by sheer willpower, I should be able to stop obsessing. It was this cruel expectation of myself that filled my 20s and 30s with self-loathing. I try not to think of all the moments of joy I lost during that time, or the thousands of words I could not write, all because of my fear that medication would kill my creative muse.
However much you have been wanting and hoping and dreaming of meeting the person of your dreams, it is only when you meet them that you will start missing them. It seems that the presence of an object is required to make its absence felt (or to make the absence of something felt). A kind of longing may have preceded their arrival, but you have to meet in order to feel the full force of your frustration in their absence.
[…] Falling in love, finding your passion, are attempts to locate, to picture, to represent what you unconsciously feel frustrated about, and by.
Since the only test of truth is length of life, and since words survive the chops and changes of time longer than any other substance, therefore they are the truest. Buildings fall; even the earth perishes. What was yesterday a cornfield is to-day a bungalow. But words, if properly used, seem able to live for ever.
It’s not to anybody’s best interest to think about how they will be perceived tomorrow. It hurts you in the long run.
I have regrets. That’s not to say I haven’t gone through life pushing forward, but with decisions I’ve made consciously and unconsciously, I look back and have regrets. It’s important to acknowledge that and better yourself from it. To not lose the things you now understand truly matter, and to let go of everything else.
To feel awed by a man I thought I knew completely: It’s a shock when that happens after so many years. And a boon. That one fling of a bowl probably bought us another five years of marriage.
To see the world, things dangerous to come to, to see behind walls, draw closer, to find each other, and to feel. That is the purpose of life.
Words could paint pictures, I learned from him. Choosing the right word, and the right word order, he illustrated, could make an enormous difference in conveying an image or an idea.
One doesn’t discover new lands without consenting to lose sight, for a very long time, of the shore.
The world is a comedy to those that think; a tragedy to those that feel.
I’ve really enjoyed reading Brain Pickings these last few months, starting with the newest posts and digging back into its archives through the various associations Maria makes between the current post and all that she’s read and written about.
I’m really excited for this show, and really hope Amazon makes it into a full season. Fingers crossed.
First published in 2005, Gotham Black has always existed as a collection of ephemera: personal notes and thoughts, all of which were true, if only temporarily, and very apt to change as I continue to learn.
I am in the process of familiarizing myself with the truths in my heart, and in that change, see the world quite differently now. I no longer believe the previous notion and header of this section,
“It’s a basic truth of the human condition that everybody lies. The only variable is about what.” It simply does not need to be that way, and I am happy I can finally see that. Committed to the brighter world that I now see, I offer up this instead, journeying with much love in my heart to guide me:
“One doesn’t discover new lands without consenting to lose sight, for a very long time, of the shore.”
— André Gide
After a long period of death and decay, I am pleased to be in the practice of writing again, here, and for no one in particular. Here’s to hoping the writing matures, avoids self-aggrandizement, and finds life. Gotham Black: Hunger Edition.