New Bohemian
“Let’s get thin. Let’s try to remember what real hunger is like. I’m tired of taking everything for granted and knowing about it.”
“Smoke more pot,” was his answer. I wasn’t having none of that.
“Escapism? It’s like putting a pillow over the wet spot; it’s not cleaning it up, only covering it. That damp disturbance is still gonna be there, festering under its concealment, possibly moldering, turning into something terrible, so that when the time comes to remove the pillow it’s a worse mess than it was in the first place. That’s no solution. No, we need to run toward the hurricane, not away from it. Let its destructive embrace sweep us up and ride the cyclone to wherever it wants to take us.”
“Pretty words.”
“Easy action,” I replied. “All it takes is a little discipline and we’re off to the races.”
“Let me tell you what will happen,” he said, stretching out his long body on the couch that could only hold half of him. “You’ll embark on this little journey of yours, and in the beginning, it will be as breathtakingly romantic as you’re imagining it right now. After a while, though, you’ll grow bored with that, ignoring the accomplishments you’re making in the attempt to return to simplicity. No matter how hard you document your process you’ll still find yourself unsatisfied, only now you’ll be unsatisfied and wanting, rather than unsatisfied with abundance. The only solution will be to return to where you were, and hopefully you can get back there unscarred by the experience.”
“You don’t get it. I want those scars.”
“You only think you do. How many of your current scars are helping you in any way? You’re still here, still bored, still searching for some privation that will teach you something because, at the heart of it, you’ve got a predilection to indolence. Sloth, that’s your sin. I say embrace it! Put that pillow over the wet spot, and if it gets too nasty just throw away the bed and get a new one. It’s so much easier than turning your back on all the things you’ve earned.” He stared at me for a long time, waiting for a confirmation or denial, and when I offered neither he said, “I see your mind’s made up. Go on then, starve yourself. Just leave me out of it.”
And that was how that relationship ended.
First draft: 150202
Published: 230830