More on DFW

The truth is reading David Foster Wallace has always been a bit beyond my ability. I struggle for every moment of comprehension. I stumbled on Everything and More years ago and thought maybe DFW could guide me through the math. I've made several attempts to read the book. I fail.

I got Fate, Time and Language for Christmas and opened it with the combination of delight and dread I always feel. I had no idea that philosophers used a language so similar to math. Once again I am struggling. Why do I try? Because there is something so compelling. So lucid.

DFW thought the first line of Tractatus was the most beautiful line in western lit. And now I am struggling to read it as well.

The news is still full of falling birds and floods and bad faith. My desire to claw out of the corner of frustration, rage and fear I painted myself into is troubled a bit. If I trust anything I trust lucidity. Love is well intentioned. Faith is a flame in the wind. Lucidity calms me.

So I struggle on.

Loss

I wrote yesterday's post before the news from Arizona. I was trying to describe the balancing act I find myself in when absorbing news and my desire to be less miserable. I noted my use of detachment. And then the news came in and I was shocked. But I quickly moved on to ... I don't even know what. It was much later after hours of news that I started to internalize the event.

Mom and I recently watched Milk. She didn't remember what went on and wanted to see it. I do remember the events and had seen the movie but was still moved to tears through most of it. Public officials being shot feels too normal to me. The assassinations in the sixties were more shocking. I remember each one. At some point I developed a sense of inevitability. It's not OK. It's not OK to accept acts of madness.

It's not really acceptance.

It's a kind of resignation.

Not OK.

Conversations on Facebook, Twitter and the news have been fraught. The right trying to emphasize that this was the act of a madman and the politics don't matter. The left pointing at the rhetoric of the right.

The second amendment is what it is. I can't call on the constitution to support the rights I want and ignore the ones I think I are stupid. But the constitution was never meant to be a stagnant document. I don't like guns. I'd like them all to go away. But I know that isn't going to happen any time soon. And it is true that this was an act of madness.

I think it should be ridiculously difficult to get a gun.

Years ago I saw a movie in which the bad guy was so odious and relentlessly bad that when the good guy shot him it felt like victory. And the good guy shot the bad guy multiple times. More times than necessary and each time he fired it felt like victory. I don't like that feeling. And when that feeling is engendered by culture I find it troubling.

But there is that other amendment. Something about the right to speak freely. While I cringe at the target, reload, shooting metaphors I strongly support the rights of people to use them. Are these metaphors akin to shouting fire in a crowded theater? Somewhat. None of this is simple.

There probably are times when shooting is the most expedient solution.

I might be guilty of moral relativism but I don't see solid footing. I see a moment of evolution. We do need to lean toward civility and away from reckless rhetoric. We also need to hear each other.

Loss triggers rage, grief, frustration, confusion. his morning I noticed how many of the dead were senior citizens. And, of course, the nine year old girl. Rage, grief, frustration, confusion.

Deep breath.

Birds and Fish and Dogs. Oh my.

Falling from the sky. Dieing en masse. Going missing. It's all so end of the world.

Mom and I were sitting in the living room yesterday and my chair moved. The plant next to me shook. I waited, hoping Mom hadn't noticed but she said, " what was that?" The table shaking gave it away. It was a small earthquake. No damage. Mom has been here when there was a similar shake and she didn't notice. This time she noticed and was worried for awhile.

I am afraid. Often. These days things all seem mysterious and suggestive. All of these things stir up a sense of panic and dread. But I'm also detached. I feel a need to be distant and vigilant.

My swim schedule got out of whack during the holidays. The pool was closed a few days. I dropped the bowl of the Cuisine Art on my toe and took a chunk out of it. It's not a good idea to swim in a public pool with an open cut. People were visiting. I had a two part root canal. So.

This week I got back in the pool a few times. Felt good.

It's different when Mom is around. I'm always aware of her. I lose track of myself.

Might not be a bad thing.

Life Before Death

I reread a book by David Foster Wallace recently. For most of his books that would be a feat but this is a small book in which the publisher has broken a commencement speech he gave into small chunks. His writing is usually a wall of words. He is the only writer who compels me to read the footnotes. So reading him as aphorism is already disorienting. The text of the book has been posted but the experience of reading it in the book is so different from reading, or even listening to him.

Poignant, ironic, almost eerie. His innate wisdom and clarity didn't save him.

The speech makes the point that we have some agency in terms of what and how we choose to think. He articulates it with a Zen simplicity. He talks about the need for reflection and awareness and curiosity.

And he hung himself.

He had a wife and a job and a house and success in a field of endeavor he must have at least liked. He suffered from depression for years. He medicated and electroshocked and tried to use his brilliant mind and in the end he hung himself.

There is no way to understand. Suicide is is not simple. Not really. But it feels like I understand.

He talks about the narcissistic way we live and perceive the world. He understood that much. And he hung himself.

I don't make resolutions but I am trying to make a shift in the way I am seeing things. Not so much trying to be more positive but at least trying to not be reflexively negative. I've considered suicide since I was very young. I've made a few flailing attempts. What stops me is the feeling that it is such a self centered thing to do. No matter how much I isolate my self there will always be a few people in my life and I don't want to cause them any amount of pain. And I think DFW may have understood that he was going to cause pain. And I don't think he was unkind.

Just.

Maybe.

Tired.

Part of the swirl of a new year is the idea of resolution. And that makes sense. Since my birthday is in the middle of the year I do some kind of critical self assessment every six months and try to imagine what I need to do to wake up.

This is water.

This is water.

In so may ways it's about acceptance. But not a pouting, resigned version. An active, embarrassing of the day in, day out. An ability to take some pleasure in the small and insignificant. Maintaining balance in the face of frustration and rage and loneliness.

I don't really know what it takes.

But the sun is out.

I'm going for a walk.

Health

It's the first of the year and popular culture is pushing diet and exercise. Same thing every year.

I was struck by something I heard on the news the other day. Not the content really but the way it was articulated. A woman died while having Liposuction. It's not unusual. It happens. Someone said the woman wanted to appear healthy. It may have been her husband. In the article I link the distinction that she was healthy but wanted a better appearance was made. I don't remember where I heard the health/appearance bit. Lipo is always cosmetic and known to be somewhat risky.

The way we articulate heath is so flawed, especially when it comes to fat people. Health is not a steady state and does not have an appearance. The healthiest looking person may have something lethal going on internally, or may have less than healthy behaviors. Appearance is the worst metric for most things, even beauty. So often I have the experience of a person becoming beautiful to me as I get to know them. But it wasn't the quest for culturally standard beauty that hit me. It was the conflation of thinness by any means and health.

People do ridiculously unhealthy things in the quest for thinness.

So much of the current conversation is about obesity (a medicalization of weight) and healthy habits. It's just not a useful way to think. HAES (health at every size) is about finding your healthy. I think health is a moving target. If you haven't had any protein in days and someone offers you pizza or broccoli ... choose the pizza. If you haven't rested in days and you can nap or jog ... nap.

It's difficult to sort through the culture noise and your own sense of things. It might not even be possible. Maybe the only thing we can do is find a blend of external and internal voices and stumble along. But oh lord I long for some new noise.

The American People

Every time I hear the words: the American people, I cringe. Voter turn out in this midterm was higher than former midterms and was still under fifty percent of eligible voters. If any message was sent by the American people it was silence. Whether that silence is about disenfranchisement or exhaustion is not clear to me. While I was voting a fellow came in saying he thought he had registered but he couldn't find his polling place. They couldn't find his registration at my polling place. African Americans and young voters turned out in record numbers to elect Obama but were not there for the midterm. There's a lot of analysis about why. Some of it makes sense to me. In any case most of the wins were by a narrow margin. There was no mandate. There was no referendum.

Politics these days feels like a battle of rhetoric. Even when I agree with what is being said I am often frustrated with the framing and articulation. It often seems overly personal and lacking substance. It's silly season.

I am no fan of Boehner but there's been a lot of snarky chatter because he cried. Men cry. Deal with it. Out of the same mouths comes the complaint that Obama is too stoic. And why are we having that conversation and not a more problem solving, issue driven analysis?

I think we are a divided nation but I think we always have been. Jefferson and Adams could barely agree. It's not a bad thing to have tension in public policy. And I wonder what we would learn if we could really talk to all those people who didn't show up to vote.

For a long time in my life I turned away from politics. It was too frustrating and didn't feel like a way to make real change. I still often feel that way. The system is fractured and corrupted. So I cast my vote in the best faith I can summon and hope for something more real. I am an American people. And really, none of them speak for me.

Kissing

I wasn't going to write about the fat hating blogger because hate is hate. Not much more to say. Anyone who has read comments on posts about fatness knows that this kind of hatefulness is out there. Read the comments on her post. Hate and hate and more hate. Her apology is completely disingenuous. She "never wanted to be a bully" but those people are really fat. Oh, and she used to be anorexic. She doesn't hate fat people she just doesn't want to be fat.

Sigh.

The creator of the show writes that he was hurt and sad for his friends (the stars of the show) who would read such horrible things being said about them. I wonder why he isn't hurt and sad every time he listens to them do the self hating dialog in the show. He says the fat jokes were going to go away as the show evolved but it's hard to take that seriously because all of the people on the show are targeted. Clearly the writers think making fun of people is funny.

No one is making the connections that seem obvious to me. The show sets the standard for the ideas about fat people. Nothing the blogger wrote is worse than many of the jokes I heard in the two episodes I watched. I've already written about my disappointment in the show.

So why am I writing about it? Because some of the people who read me don't really get that fat hatred is real. I remember talking to a teacher about it and seeing her expression change from interest to one of wondering if I might need meds. I told her a few of the things that had been said to me and her expression changed again to one of shock. She had no idea. But I doubt she gave it much more thought.

Pattie wrote a great post about Love Your Body day. I love the affirmation.

I am so fat.

Yes.

I too am so fat.

I can count the times I've seen a serious kiss between fat people on TV or in a movie. I remember them because they were a shock to my system. I was filled with the kind of conflict a person has when what they want to be true is so rarely portrayed.

I remember people being uncomfortable seeing Gay people kiss. There was lots of chatter about the kiss on Modern Family. I remember when seeing people of color kiss freaked people out.

Representation matters.

And where is NAAFA? Was there a press release I missed? There is a protest happening. Very cool.

I feel angry. I feel like I've been angry for such a long time. The haters don't make me as angry as the very nice people who don't get it. Hate is hate.