Scream If You Wanna Go Faster



When you feel things deeply do you get angry? Do you shout and scream? Do you retreat? Do you go mute? All of the above? None of the above? I’m choosing my words carefully, but maybe lyrical perfectionism is imperative. Maybe ineloquent or careless utterances betray us: I’m think specifically when I told someone who cut across me on the highway recently to go and f*@K himself.

I’m intrigued by people who don’t give too much away – a gnarly badge of honor if you will. But then, I begin to find them disingenuous and boring. Nothing to share means literally, nothing to share, not even drops of spilt tea into a mug cavernous enough to house them. I think that’s why it’s made me want to try and get close to this strange, mysterious thing that we can do with words. It’s what’s made me want to beat everything including my chest, such is the power of the feeling. Reading words that touch me takes my breath away. I literally have no clue what to do with myself.

When I get riled up which happens less and less these days, the jolting release of turning life up loud (music, car, running down a hill), is a potent desire that’s not met in too many other areas. Except screaming like a lunatic into the ocean. That’s pretty grand that is. Or bashing a set of drums with a torrid beat. That’s grand too.

When my dad was alive, we would speak about everything and anything – that was one of the big joys of our relationship. And now that he’s gone, I do find myself looking at him in photos and wishing I’d asked a lot more of him when he was still alive. Because there’s so much you want to know once they’re gone. That sense of mystery isn’t exciting, it’s palpably urgent, and I don’t want to hold my breath on it.

I’m bringing this up, because my dad taught me about knowing how much to expose, knowing how to pace. Simple things that are mighty helpful when I come to approach my writing. I give myself time to open up that part of me, and then close it down again. Closing up all those edges and carrying on about your day is a discipline that’s necessary.

Living in New York has removed me from familiar surroundings, opened my eyes, and forced me to think in an entirely different way. Life is nothing if not unpredictable. It’s also sublime doing the last thing anyone expected, casting off the shackles to reveal much more than glimpses of a vulnerable and kaleidoscopic human being underneath. Someone once sang “these are the greatest times of my life,” simultaneously capturing the energy of the times while emphasizing an opposition to them.

Aaah well then, I’m a supreme contrarian indeed.


source: Hockney | A Bigger Splash |


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