Don't bogart that joint

Lately. Lately I feel as if I've no direction and no hope of finding one. Like I'm just really not meant to do anything great, or anything at all. I think of things I could pursue, but I know it's not right, it feels so forced, I don't know. The thought of ever actually accomplishing something seems so foreign, of being valuable even more so. Like I'm just letting time pass, waiting for something that's probably never going to come, as I'm sure as hell doing nothing to bring it about. So I'm stuck. And I'm living with my parents all summer. And it really, kind of blows. That feeling of minor invincibility and, let's face it, coolness, is quietly fading into one of subtle, passive imprisonment. Sneaking around in the night, getting high. Having to explain myself all the time.

They clean.. everything. All the time. I don't understand. They never laugh, they just worry, and are concerned about things, and run errands, and get tired from running the errands. They make jokes that aren't funny, and laugh hard at things I know they can't possibly actually find funny, and are interested in the cusp of things, minor elements of the actually interesting whole, and work hard to articulate this interest in ways that don't really make sense. They just.. don't seem like real people to me, like the shells of people. The shells of souls past, the WASPS, all washed up on the Eastern Shore to gather for croquet parties and brunches and Memorial Day bbqs. I'm being very critical. But sometimes, I wonder if things would be different, for me, if I had grown up with the type of superhero parents I always imagined. Academics. Eccentrics. People with vision. People who read Harper's. People who are friends with psychoanalysts, people who write essays. People who leave things messy sometimes, people who can't overcome their laziness sometimes. People who embrace their flaws and the flaws of others. But I'm nauseating myself. Sure, this is the kind of parent I'd like to be. But why do any of these things matter? Certainly they're just as superficial as whatever the fuck my parents are doing. But. The type of person I am. I don't hate my parents. I do blame them, to an extent, for what they are, just as I blame myself for what I am. I just.. just wish they had something. Something redemptive. Something like an extensive record collection, or an obsessive enthusiasm for anything actually worthwhile and beautiful.

But instead, we're living in the South. You know what I saw yesterday when I was watching public access tv? There was this guy being interviewed, turns out he was a pastor. He wrote a book, about "the class of 1850," which apparently included some hard hitters, politically. But the real wacky thing was, he was dressed as a Confederate soldier. And he meant it. And it was so strange, the way he continued to explain the book, answer all the questions asked of him with no hint at the fact that he was even aware of what he looked like to everyone else. So finally, the interviewer asked him, "What's up with your outfit, dude?" and this man tells us that he's had it custom-made. And not only does he have this one, he's owner to a slew of reenactment-themed outfits, which he dons depending on which aspect of the Civil War he's scheduled to be discussing. They're very hot, he says, but he still wears them in, like, July, and meanwhile the interviewer is shaking, shaking as he holds up this guy's book, and maybe he's just old but honestly this guy is kind of frightening. "He just likes going back in time." That's all it is, no harbored malice toward blacks, or the north, or the United States government, or anything like that. Just an unbridled desire to transcend the limits of time. So yeah, this is where I live now. Public access television on a hot Saturday afternoon.

Brigid's driving down to visit me today. We're going to go to the beach and drink Tom Collins and make Ortega tacos and.. some other stuff. I don't know. Maybe we'll take out the Whaler and zip around the harbor in our Wayfarers. Maybe we'll make a cake. I hope she stays forever.