Death to 26

Dear Me in the Future,

What's it like to be a robot man in a tabula rasa acidverse playing improv baseball?

You're 27. I'm writing this about a week before that happens, right after High Plains. You'll be in California when you see this, and if it's anything like the rest of this year, you're in for some crazy shit. I feel a little tired and quiet and still, or at least I want to be. Writing this is a little hard. I hope I wake up in a bit.

Or die of dehydration. One of the two.

I don't know that I have a lot of life lessons for you. I'm younger than you and don't exist any more, so maybe nothing I say is applicable. So far I've been playing by the rule of doing something that I don't know the result of. Whenever faced with a decision, I don't weigh whether I think which is better or worse, I think about which one I don't know the end to. I figure at least I'll get a memory and some new knowledge out of it. I'm not really afraid of bad experiences. Luckily there haven't been that many anyways.

Couple misunderstandings, but I'm working them out with turtles

 I'm interested in being who I should be, and I am killing all the incarnations of myself that weren't. It's been a strange process because it seems like there's a lot of them. I've been thinking a lot about processes. I don't have much to say about it yet, maybe you will.

It's draw dropping whether or not any sound comes out.

You lead a very strange life, pet. I hope you feel less alienated from your body than I do. I've been struggling with that concept for awhile. I wonder how people don't feel the same way. Maybe they do. Maybe you and your guinea pig will be on better terms soon.

This forest just changed its relationship status to "It's complicated."

The old advice is that the only thing that matters in life is the people in it. There's some truth to that but you and I both know that it's only a fraction, albeit a big one. That sense of loneliness that you incur happens whether or not you're around good people, and you have many good people.

And one ambivalent baby deer

It's funny to see people talk about success and find there's "nothing at the top." You start writing, getting attention, get to do bigger things, and maybe you do become famous, out doing red carpet shit, household name, whatever. The traditional wisdom, or at least what I've been hearing about that, is that it's lonely, there's few people that understand what it's like and it's hard to maintain close relationships that way. All of that's true, none of it means any thing. Putting any stock in "making it" indicates you think it matters. Again, this is a process.

Have an opinion on this. I dare you.

I realized yesterday how that idea is still applicable for human relationships. We have a "top", at least culturally, for how we get to know people. You introduce yourself, become friends, get closer, maybe you fall in love and have a family, and the traditional wisdom is that it's what we're looking for, and you won't be lonely. Unfortunately, the closer you get to another person, the more difficult it becomes to maintain your other close relationships. It's an important thing to recognize, I guess. I'd been thinking there's this holy grail person (because there was, wasn't there?) who you can be everything to and vice versa. Even with someone who knows you that intimately, you can still be absorbed by a very deep seated loneliness.

Let's just dance around these feelings until they take out Pompeii

Both of these things can seem terrifying and painful, but I think I'm figuring out the flaw. I don't have it entirely, but maybe you'll get it. It has something to do with expecting permanence. You can't expect another person to make you feel whole, you can't substitute a career for a person, either.  I'm coming to the conclusion that there are times where feeling whole isn't an option.

Sometimes you don't question the options you have, you're just grateful they sort of occupy 3d space?

 You have to be climbing because you like to climb, you can't expect it to get easier or less lonely. Part of not being able to be eternal also involves understanding that you are an experience. Not even the human experience, that's another thing entirely. You're the kokadrille experience I guess. I don't want to call it that but I'm really lacking for words that I can call you, since you're me and I feel weird about saying our name. Writing is surreal that way, pet.

Competitive raccoons playing horse is not, though...

That's why you have to do the things you don't know the answers to, that's all you have, is the unknown. You have to wonder so you can learn. You have to keep going and you will make a lot of bonds and memories but none of them will be quintessential or your definition. I do not know if the romantic relationship ideal is in the cards for you. Probably, because at some point it's going to be one of those unknowns. It's going to suck for you, or at least it does for me. Maybe you'll get some good insights out of it. Relationships and heartbreak are drugs like any other and you could easily use them for fun or as tools depending on your life itinerary.

Or how much you take, I guess.

Sometimes I don't know if I'm a comedian. I just have these ideas, and this blog and those stages are the only way I can seem to communicate them. People don't know when to laugh sometimes, but I'm starting to sense that at least they're listening.  All I want is to turn this thing I understand into something other people can understand. It feels like I stumbled on a secret when I was young, like walking in on a murder and I can't tell any one. It feels accidental, important, and very weird, but I have it so I have to figure out how to share it somehow or I really am going to lose myself.

"I don't know which way is up!" -- One of the many reasons dogs make terrible pilots.

Just to remind you though, despite my own doubts of being a comedian or whatever, here's some facts that hopefully you'll find encouraging. You are starting to make more of your living off of your words, which was all you set out to do this year. You've traveled to perform, which you also set out to do this year. You've started projects you said you were going to, and whether or not you got them to work you spoke them into existence. All of this is terrifying and strange but everyone is pretty chill. This is as close to feeling like you're doing what you want that you've come to so far. You don't have it figured out (I don't and I doubt the week made all that much difference) but you're figuring it out. You are kinetic, don't worry about where you're going to land, because you probably won't be there long.

This hot air balloon isn't going to make the best inflatable raft...

By the time you read this, you'll be 27 and I'll effectively be dead. I actually take a weird bit of comfort in that because I am goddamn exhausted right now and in the future, you get to deal with it. Believe it or not, I love you and I have a  lot of faith in you. That's hard to admit in a weird way. I guess that's the good thing about knowing that you exist and I don't. I have a lot of room to say things that are hard to admit. You are so fucking lucky, you giant child.

Some people have guardian angels, some people have helicopters storks

Things are going to get better, and worse. It's all parabolic that way. Learn what kinds of trees you see. Get better at math, it might make these explanations feel more solid for you. Keep going, and write letters. Maybe you'll figure out more of what it means to be an experience. I'd say keep me posted but it's not an option.

Good luck with everything, and Happy Birthday.

Sincerely,
You from the past.