My money was earned in the having of heartfelt Zoom calls. Resultantly, many of my emotional moments occurred with people who, from my perspective, were tiny and trapped in boxes. My uncharacteristic vulnerability was, perhaps, enabled by the sense that I towered over them. If I bared my heart to an extent that was unacceptable, I could always close the window. Once, a client told me that I’d made his life closer to what he’d hoped it could be. I closed the window immediately.
I met two people in Lima, when I was in deep despair. One was the imposing empress of a hemp empire, and the other, her gregarious assistant. After meeting them, I went to get my teeth whitened, but was turned away because my teeth were too dirty. Hearing this rousing story, they invited me to their classy AirBnB, where I took a shower and used their products. The assistant confronted me when, later, by the ocean, I sat on the rocks with my head in my hands, while the empress was surfing. He told me that I should throw some rocks down the beach. “Look at the way they bounce,” he said, “that’s the universe talking.”
On our first 1st class international flight, I belted Kate Bush in falsetto somewhere over Panama, somehow convinced that nobody would hear. In a display of the manners of the genteel classes, nobody stopped me, but the looks on nearby faces, upon the flight’s conclusion, followed me through the streets of Peru.
Sometimes, I was responsible, a good friend, a good husband. Sometimes, I refused invitations with shocking rudeness, put off getting the sprinklers repaired for two months, tried as hard as possible to avoid good fortune. Sometimes, I pursued new friendships with zeal, welcoming warmth into my life with fearlessness. Sometimes, I let astonishing people go by me, as if I couldn’t help it.
I said things that I didn’t mean to be funny. People laughed. I said things that I meant to be funny. People screwed up their faces and walked away. I decided that there was no better way to do things. At 33, I am too old to change my way of talking, although my way of walking is perhaps modifiable, and I am open to alternate breathing techniques. My dreams of having a coherent fashion sense are long gone.
In a shocking lapse of judgement, we bought a house, then sold it six months later. In a shocking lapse of judgement, the real estate market decided to reward us for this. We fled to the desert, where I began to systematically destroy the glassware of the AirBnB where we resided.
For a time, I discussed setting up a pharmacy in Honduras with relevant stakeholders, in order to skirt some federal regulations. This is a plan I entertained for a long period of time, with great seriousness, perhaps mostly because I enjoyed telling people in my life that I was “becoming a drug lord.” There is also another factor: my lifelong insecurity that I am not a person who does things, which is fed by a lurking suspicion that nothing I do is real.
I gave up on having a single independent purpose in life that I will pursue regardless of the surrounding circumstances. I am now resigned to being an organelle, simply doing whatever seems most expedient for the organism in which I am housed. You are part of this organism, by virtue of your reading this newsletter. But probably a less important part than some other part. I will still work to serve you, theoretically, but perhaps not very hard.
Often, I produced a Tweet indicating I would write about something. This was the way I gave myself permission to not write about all of these worthy topics. Meanwhile, I got in a couple of fights with prominent people on the internet. They were gravely wounded by my words, and I was pronounced the victor, and lifted on the shoulders of the beautiful, and paraded throughout the commons.
I learned, to my confusion, that I am known as “that guy” in certain powerful and influential circles.
Victoria and I had our honeymoon. We most enjoyed the Sacred Valley, where we stayed at a hotel staffed by a socially needy couple who hounded us at every opportunity. The male half negged Victoria in front of me, and pushed spa treatments on her. I wondered if there were hidden cameras in the spas. The female half wouldn’t stop talking about her angel investments. A bellhop appeared to have achieved enlightenment. Some Hungarian women demanded a refund when their room was invaded by scorpions. As a result of these events, we discussed moving to the Sacred Valley, but eventually realized that we still want to meddle in the affairs of mortals.
During a drive back from Arizona in the middle of the night, I looked at my hand, and repeated, as per a Buddhist exercise, “not me, not mine.” As my car rolled across the cold sand, I imagined myself as luminous emptiness. Suddenly my body was gone—it was just me and the car. Loosened of my sense of self, I floated amidst raw sensations, feeling each particle touch my awareness, like a little kiss from a blade of grass. From my wife’s perspective, I think this upgrade to my consciousness manifested mostly in me being kind of awkward. Later, my consciousness returned to normal, while I drank sake and watched a bunch of dudes punch each other in the face.
I am in love more than ever. I have learned to love myself. I have not learned to dispense, in any reasonable or systematic way, the affection I have for the people in my life. Perhaps the answer, finally, will be the abandonment of any such idea, a total loss of control of my heart and its pronouncements.
Today, I decided to be a fragrance influencer on TikTok. It is a decision that will haunt me for the rest of my life.