venice: the emptiness of C and me; without V, no hope for me; inside the sky with E (memory collage 2009)
the light of the world that V helps me see (march 2009)
sometimes i wish i were V
we are up after midnight waiting for our friend C to arrive by ferry from albania; he has been working his way over land & sea from istanbul. last i heard from him he was in macedonia sending me an e-mail from a desktop computer in a hostel.
we don’t have smartphones; we have little nokias — not even flip phones — that we load with sim cards from a german grocery store and that don’t really work in italy.
the desktop computer in our venice hostel — a converted palace that once belonged to some oligarchic merchants in the middle ages — helps us glance at C’s e-mail, our only evidence that he will arrive tonight: we can’t know for sure he boarded his boat.
but he does arrive: in a rush, after midnight, and the three of us are hugging.
he is so relieved: “a few days ago i was standing with a group of homeless people around a fire in istanbul,” he says.
“you have to go to macedonia,” he adds. “lake ohrid. amazing.”
whenever i talk with men like C i have this sense:
we collect countries like baseball cards;
we accumulate experiences like merchandise;
we deploy surface-level travel anecdotes to glamorize ourselves in front of girls.
i don’t think most of us even realize we are doing this: we simply perform this.
i do not know if i believe in free will because in so many conversations with so many people i feel as though i am an automaton.
sometimes i wish i were V.
i do believe V has free will.
i often think that if i spend enough time with V, i will learn how to have free will too.
the emptiness between C and me (spring/summer 2009)
i have this sense that there is a kind of void between me and C, and i feel bad about this. maybe i am not appreciating our friendship enough. shouldn’t i feel lucky to have someone like C as a friend? shouldn’t i feel grateful he wants to hang out with someone like me? but i don’t feel grateful; i feel empty.
talking with C about travel, i remember this feeling i had when i was eight years old and sitting in an enormous basketball stadium:
all at once, from nowhere, the whole world felt unreal. it was as if a transparent sheet had dropped before my eyes and when i looked around at all these people cheering, at all these players running around, at all these beers cracking open, i saw:
there is nothing here. there is nothing here at all.
my dad was cheering; all these people were screaming. and i was in awe as i looked up and down, left and right across the stadium.
i saw it: the unreality of everything around me.
i was terrified.
it was a memory that would stay with me like a ghost, always haunting me, always coming back at random moments to remind me:
there is something about this world that is not real.
at 8, what could i say? what could i do? everyone around me was enraptured by the nothingness, and only i seemed to see that we were all just nothing at all.
i felt this enormous emptiness, as if everything and everyone around me, even myself, had emerged spontaneously from deep inside a blackhole, and we would go back soon.
but the basketball game simply continued,
and i was paralyzed, mesmerized, horrified by the nothingness of the world.
the void: is it real?
whenever i feel these jolts of unreality i remember:
there is something wrong with me.
i am fundamentally disconnected from reality. what this means: i have no idea.
why? because reality is something i must see. and i cannot see it. i cannot.
i am so immersed in my unreality that i don’t even fully believe myself when i say i am immersed in unreality.
so i am always feeling guilty for sensing this emptiness between me and C. because when i sense this void, i don’t know: is this really a void, or am i delusional?
travel conversations with men
i kind of know what i am supposed to do when i talk about travel with certain men:
💖 emphasize number of countries i have visited
💖 emphasize factual knowledge about each country’s political, economic, religious, and cultural circumstances
💖 emphasize the beauty of the scenery but without specific discussion of feelings
💖 emphasize the sights i saw and bemoan those who missed these sights
💖 avoid discussion about what the experience meant spiritually for me
when i discuss travel with certain men (i mean honestly not gay men and not all men but certain men), here is what i feel:
we are on the surface of things;
we are so fucking firmly on the surface of things that we aren’t even expressing the reality of our own experiences;
we look at one another and we see collections, lists, accumulations, achievements, numbers, and conquests;
when i want to show myself to these friends, when i want to go beneath the surface of me and let out what i really felt in some country:
i am sucked up into nothingness.
and i myself join into the objectification of my own experiences,
as if i were watching myself obliterate myself.
we are taking our experiences and turning them into display pieces.
for what? to construct ourselves into something: to perform as something,
to avoid being ourselves and to avoid looking at ourselves but
i cannot even break free because i cannot see myself.
i know all this but: i don’t know what to do about it.
without V there is no hope for me
i don’t know if C reflects on any of this or what any of it means for us.
does he choose to do this? does he watch himself do this?
and i don’t know who to discuss this with either.
what about the girls?
could i talk to my girlfriends about these feelings?
no. i don’t want to freak my girlfriends out.
i don’t want to confirm to them that i am just some other man,
some other man with all these stupid fucked up issues.
they would think i am bad if i admit to them how i have been performing.
“like all men,” they would say.
or maybe they just wouldn’t believe me.
maybe they’d just say:
“well, you’re fucked up, we could have told you that a year ago.”
and i don’t need to give anyone more evidence of that, especially not V.
while eating lunch at the michigan state university cafeteria, i have told V:
i want to kill myself;
i want to take a bunch of drugs and die;
i just think everyone hates me and my life is hopeless.
once i was trying to stop myself from stabbing myself and:
i called V on my nokia phone so many times that night.
V has dealt with a lot of my shit.
i am often unable to contain my emotions when i am around her: her presence emanates the radiating heat of the scorching sun. i am not sure what to do to when her light is shining all over me and there are flames rising all around me.
i know that i need to learn how to control myself because:
i think i’d die if i lost V.
V makes me crazy in this sense: when i am near V i stop knowing how to act.
V makes me forget the directions.
connections with other beings:
the portals these provide
my friendship with V is a portal:
if i spend time with V i will understand something.
what i will understand, i do not know, but something. and i know this something is related to the fabric of reality itself, although i do not know what this means. i know that V sees through the sheet that came between me and the basketball stadium.
and not only the sheet: V sees through the basketball stadium itself.
i do not think this is something she realizes.
what V sees
what i know for sure: V is a person who knows something i do not.
and not something little,
not a collection of little somethings,
but something huge,
something ordinary (for her),
something she cannot communicate to me in words,
something she herself does not even know she knows because:
this something is not a doctrine, and it’s not a lesson, and it’s not a religion:
this something is simply the way V seems to see the world. i cannot claim to know how she sees the world of course. all i can say is that when i am speaking with her, she says things to me that jolt my sense of reality: she says things to me, things that to her are just completely normal little things, that make me realize how far away i am from understanding what i am looking at when i gaze at the world beyond my body.
a whole group of men, each of them knowing ten times more facts about politics and policy than V, can make the most cogent argument imaginable against universal health care; there is not one part of V that capitulates to their logic.
the facts which these men deploy often seduce me; i have this sense that i am supposed to be logical and serious like they are, and what this means is i must adopt views based on eloquently worded and factually dense arguments. but what is clear is that there is no argument eloquent enough and no number of facts sufficient enough to sway V when it comes to her idea that all human beings deserve health care.
the more i think about how all these well-read men’s richly researched logical arguments simply crash into little pieces when they break against V’s mind, the more i realize that V simply does not see what i see. V sees something else.
this is why i feel it is vital to be near V. honestly i consider myself to be such a staunch materialist, such an atheist, and… actually, V’s almost there too… which makes this strange, to say what is true, which is this:
for years, i have been in darkness, and ever since i met V, i am stepping into light.
V has no intention of changing me, but she is changing me: she is setting a stage for some unknown something, or at least i hope so.
sometimes i think, “maybe by the 20s i’ll be able to write well,” and then i think, “if i can write well in the 20s, it’s going to be because of V,” but i do not know how or why.
this is not about some factual declaration about god or no god. what this is about:
i have this sense when V talks to me that she sees something i do not see, but when she is talking to me: i see it, a little bit, and what i see is:
me.
and not only me:
cracks of light shredding through the nothingness of that sheet hanging over the empty reality which surrounded me in the basketball stadium so long ago as a little child when i looked around and saw, with terror in my bones: that there was nothing there. and yet somehow i have this sense that V does not see nothing. she sees light.
when i am with V i see: there is something there,
and V sees this something,
even though she would never be able to tell me what this something is.
what V has:
a way of seeing that if i could somehow only absorb from her,
well, i would be reborn.
but i know this makes no sense and:
this is not something i would ever tell V.
what i am without V
being near V is vital.
and yet: i am not me, even when i am with V.
what i am:
a program put into place for the purposes of economic production;
a set of learned behaviors, countries visited, and knowledge attained;
a structure designed to accumulate logical arguments and persuade other men that i am knowledgable enough to have a valid opinion on some given topic.
what will i tell those men when i return from venice?
“it was beautiful,” i will say. “it was breathtaking.”
which is to say:
i am not going to tell those men anything at all.
i could tell them these feelings.
i could tell V these feelings.
but these feelings are crushed up into a little mass inside me.
these feelings spark out sometimes when i am near V.
these feelings crackle out when i am near her; i cannot control them.
i keep the feelings contained and i am shaking.
with so many of the men around me, i just know:
there’s nothing there.
venice:
“it was beautiful. it was breathtaking.”
what i won’t say:
what i saw inside the sky when i was sitting near the water with E.
when i see V, i know i will want to tell her all of these feelings.
i don’t think there’s a feeling in my soul i wouldn’t want V to know:
but that doesn’t mean i will tell her about them.
walking in the morning with E (march 2009)
E does not want to sleep in. she wants to wake up early, before the sun rises.
as i walk beside E during sunrise, i am happy, i am content, i am full of light.
E loves to buy fresh fruits and vegetables.
i sit down with E by the water and we watch the sunrise reflecting on the ripples. i am next to her while we are eating breakfast and drinking waters, our bodies collapsed down on the cool stones beside the glimmering adriatic: we are bathed in sparkles and we are breathing in the most refreshing air as a breeze blows in from the sea.
there is nothing here at all: only light.
there’s something inside the sky
when E looks up at the sky, there is such a sparkle in her eyes. she looks up at the sky and she is seeing something behind the sky that i do not see. often in my life i have gazed up at the sky, at night and in the daytime, and i have known that the sky holds some sort of truth which i do not possess.
the sky devastates me, inspires me, crushes me.
i want to look at the sky, the eternal reality, and i want:
to have those sparkles in my eyes.
i know in that moment what i must do when i travel:
i must buy fruits and veggies;
i must sit down by the sea;
i must bask in the light of a friend.
but for now:
i am doomed to perform.
i feel like i must know something about venice, something about the history maybe, something i can throw out in a conversation for the men i will see soon.
bologna train station
C and i are taking the overnight train back to freiburg where we study.
we are eating cheap sandwiches from some train station kiosk and we are sitting on the ground while pigeon shit drops around us.
there is no sky; only a ceiling.
we talk about the places we have been, the places we will go.
we talk about how tired we are: we cannot wait to be in freiburg.
we talk about our travel stories in a self-glamorizing style.
we talk about V.
C is closer to V;
V sees something in C.
a while later i see V in freiburg.
there is a lot of tension between V and me: i am not very mature.
neither is V.
i want to tell V all my feelings about the universe. but when she is near me, and when i see her, the sun is there, and there is fire all around me. i am blinded; i am burning.
5 additional readings about experiences & travel in venice
“Venice — “La Serenissima”, it is called, the most serene. There are no automobiles here, no buses, no scooters, no garbage trucks to offend the ears. Movement is by boat and cart and on foot. A lot of good-natured shouting and teasing occurs on the busy quays and in the markets. But in the less-traveled back streets, all is muted, fluid, winding.
Alone in these dim, quiet lanes and small sun-lit squares, I hear only the laughter of children, the cooing of doves, the rattle of pans and pots from second-story windows as families prepare their mid-day meals. I find myself walking softly so as not to disturb the peaceful rhythm of these private neighborhoods, and I wonder, momentarily, if I should be leaving a trail of bread crumbs in order to find my way back to the real world.”
“These were the most magical and inspiring few days!! I can’t describe how beautiful it was, the atmosphere, the people around me and connections felt so serene. Since then I feel like my aesthetic grew to another level and I’m feeling very creative at the moment too (lots of exciting things are coming and going to Paris next week to shoot for a hotel!!).
I remember that my first time in Venice was a school trip ages ago and it definitely was rather a classic tourist trip, passing by these hidden gems.
As this is a Sunday Inspiration post, I share only pictures without any written context - but sometimes pictures say more than words.”
“Let’s talk Venice! This city is something special—waterways, gondolas, stunning architecture… it's like stepping into another world. If you're planning an Italian adventure, Venice should definitely make the cut.”
“We’re wrapping up the week with a special red carpet report from the 81st Venice International Film Festival, which got underway yesterday.
The sun shone as the stars arrived at Venice Lido in their private water taxis for the one week festival, which runs until next Saturday, 7 September. Some of the hair and makeup looks were reminiscent of those seen earlier this year at Cannes and the MET - think beachy waves, undone updo’s and red lips (although, no sign of the slicked back, heavily wet-gelled trend).”
“Too many Venice churches - not enough time. While I haven't actually researched the figures, after more than two weeks in Venice I'd be willing to wager that Venice probably has more churches per square kilometer than any other city in Europe, including Rome. Every nook and cranny seems to have a church. One website lists 131 churches in this city and its islands. And this is after Napoleon in the early 1800s swept through Catholic Venice with a vengeance, shutting down and demolishing around 40 parish churches.
The Venice churches that remained and those that were built following Napoleon's defeat are spectacular. They range from those influenced by the Byzantine style, covered with sparkling golden mosaics, to soaring Gothic structures with stained glass windows to ornate baroque edifices with stately columns and twisting statues. More than some other cities, virtually every church in historic Venice was built for a purpose and decorated to tell fascinating, heroic stories of the saints, religious orders and noblemen who paid for their construction.”
"avoid discussion about what the experience meant spiritually for me" .. true, but also, bragging about the spiritual enlightenment gained from travel can be some 5th Dan level brotalk