against the advisement of my mental health professionals, not to mention my better judgement, I’ve been listening to Death Is Just Around the Corner a lot lately, for the first time in years. why is this a bad idea? aside from Mikey’s contagious pessimism, astute as it may be (though he seems better since kicking junk, and my parasocial well wishes to him for it), it means I’m thinking, as though I don’t already, too much about Pynchon, too much about Gravity’s Rainbow, too much about how maybe there’s nothing left for me to say.
because I only ever need the slightest nudge in that direction, now I’m thinking maybe I’ll reread Gravity’s Rainbow. to be sure, I will eventually. but I probably ought not right now. again, peace be upon MSJ, no shade, one love, all that, but I really don’t want to be a guy who filters basically everything through his understanding of Gravity’s Rainbow. it’s a little much to have every episode of your podcast make reference to, or quote at length, one novel, exhaustive as that novel might seem.
of course, MSJ has a broad and deep understanding of a lot literature, so I don’t mean to suggest otherwise. in fact, I’m envious of how much he seems to know, how thorough and dedicated his thinking is, the conviction and self-assurance he has connecting a variety of disparate ideas. why can’t I seem to maintain that steely-eyed focus? probably because it would make me a spoil-sport, a wet blanket, a crank, an impolite dinner guest. and unfortunately, somewhere along the way, I learned, subconsciously, that it’s a lot easier to be a go along to get along kind of guy. why, I know all too well why. it’s embarrassing how much psychoanalysis still holds true.
with the help of my actual, not metaphorical, mental health professional, who isn’t a psychoanalyst per se, I’m coming to realize a whole host of shit I spent the better part of my life deliberately not realizing. not like, repressed memories or whatever, I don’t even really believe in repressed memories. but working through shit, that’s what making art is for, but also but my internal resistance to fully submerging into what all that shit is is, well, there’s a lot of tricks my ego plays to dissuade me from getting there. one of the most obvious, to me anyway, is thinking about Gravity’s Rainbow, rather than touching upon whatever it is in me that’s fucked.
complicating my own personal internal defense mechanisms is that I have to spend 40 hours a week turning off my ability to feel and think deeply so that I can do customer service. and more than anything, what I envy Pynchon for is having been granted the time and money to lose his fucking mind enough to create a book that seems to encapsulate the whole world. but to do that, he had to really touch upon whatever it is in him that’s fucked, and also whatever it is in the world that’s fucked, and boy howdy is that a lot of pain to feel.
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