All I really want is for somebody to like me (like, LIKE like me) for a sustained period of time without eventually getting tired of me and moving on. But until then, the handsome bachelor life it is, I guess.
I kind of want to start a book club with chapters from my manuscript, but I don’t know if that’s a dumb idea, to have a book club for a book that’s merely still in progress? I think on one hand, it would be cool to talk about these chapters extensively with people as the others are being written.
I’ve been trying to convince myself that I’m okay, but I still feel lost at sea. It’s been over five months since my mom passed away, and even though I don’t feel terrible every minute of every day, even though I don’t lie in bed every morning when I wake up and ask myself, “Do I really want to do this? Do I really want to drudge my way through the pits of another day?,” I feel like my motivation has been sapped away. I’ve done a few things that I’m proud of, but haven’t had the motivation I used to when it comes to busying myself with work. I find myself just wanting to be by myself every day.
I’ve barely written anything about music in 2014. I haven’t had the drive to keep up with everything. And the problem with that is, I don’t really care. It doesn’t matter to me if I write another word about anything, and that frightens me, because I don’t know when I’m going to be inspired to write again.
I told myself I’d take the spring off and come back swinging in the summer. I told myself I’d take the summer off and come back with a vengeance in the fall. But honestly? I have no idea when I’m coming back. The solitude is too alluring right now. Maybe instead of picking myself back up after my mother’s death, I’ve just suppressed all that grief and it’s manifesting itself in sloth and lethargy.
To be frank, I don’t know when I’m coming back. I don’t know if I’ll ever come back. I just wanted you to know in case I don’t come back.
And if I don’t come back, maybe each of you will eventually see me in person one day, because I love every single one of you and I would love for that to happen.
Always remember Martin Douglas loves you.
The thing that really gets to me about people with privilege is when they pretend that privilege is a myth. It makes me furiously angry.
So when I heard about the UC Santa Barbara shooting, I felt incredibly guilty. guilty for the way I was when I was younger (and how every guy is or was, which is or was a misogynist jerk), guilty for all of the times in my younger years where I had the opportunity to say “fuck you, women are people, not prizes or trinkets or trophies” and opted not to, guilty for all of the other things women go through that I take for granted because I have never gone and will never go through the things women have to go through on a daily basis. There are things that bleed into my every day life, when I have a platonic friendship with a girl and people ask me if I’m dating or fucking her, but I feel guilty for myself and terrible for her. Because it doesn’t make any sense that basic human decency can’t be applied to women by the overwhelming majority of people in the world.
I feel guilty for every time I tried to say hello to a girl and she’s shot me a glance and went about her day without saying hi back, because I should have known that it’s dangerous to be a woman living in the world. Of course, every guy with a shred of basic kindness (regarding treating women like actual human beings) knows that their guilt is a product of an unjust society, but when can society change for the better? How do we make society change for the better?
This “I’m going to approach it one person at a time” thing I’ve been doing feels like chipping away at brick wall. I just try to be a decent human being to everyone, and I feel as though I’m successful doing that, but for every person like me doing that, I feel there are twenty out in the world reinforcing society’s deplorable approach to women, to trans-people, to everyone who fits outside of the standard of our patriarchal society. I don’t know what to do, because I feel like what I have been doing isn’t enough.
I have an article coming out tomorrow which I can easily qualify as one of the best things I’ve ever written. Like, if I’m only known for “The Only Black Kid at the Indie-Rock Show” and this thing that’s coming out tomorrow, I will be very satisfied with the way my life has turned out.
“I want to be remembered as someone who was sincere. Even if I made mistakes, they were made in sincerity. If I was wrong, I was wrong in sincerity. I can deal with a person who was wrong, as long as they were sincere.”—Malcolm X (via romcomenthusiast)