Living You

Living You

It’s cold and calm and cool and quiet, and none of these things make her feel comfortable or happy or inspired or thrilled or relaxed. She takes a sip from her tourist-inspired PJ Hackett Bungy New Zealand water bottle. “Leap from great heights with no fear,” the logo on the thing exclaims in the overwhelming directness that, obviously, people die from these adventure-type thrill rides. She commends the company that paid to sell these pre-filled bottles of free water for facing the obvious head-on. It’s a noble thing to confront one’s fears, and so, perhaps, the fears of the Bungy Co, etc., reveals itself to be that people fear jumping off of buildings, etc., only to be whipped and pulled against gravity by their ankles. The other outcome being death or not participating or doing at all. The doing of things, of course, is the obvious living of life, in these times of fraught neediness and compulsion to not just survive but thrive. It’s within this mind and mindset of the adventure-seeker where all of the questions to life’s greatest perils (namely NOT living life) are and can be answered.

 


Is it even possible to live without yourself, he wonders, first quietly to himself and then aloud so that his dinner companion may hear. “What’s that?” she asks. “Is it even possible to live without yourself?” “What does that even mean?” she furrows mostly with brows at first but then with her entire face and shoulders. “Are you alive still if you’re not here or if you’re removed from yourself?” he attempts to reiterate. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say, and you say crazy shit on the regular.” He reaches forward for his wine glass, leans back in his chair with the air of cool that matches his outer appearance, and takes a sip. “It’s not crazy. Think about it. You can live without body parts and even without parts of your brain. Is it really that far fetched to think that you could live without you?” he sings at the rhythm of the swirling wine pinched between his fingers. “Uh, okay. So then if you’re not you, like in your body, then where are you?” she asks, genuinely intrigued now. “Exactly,” he states flatly as he pulls a sip from the glass.

 


Friday, 21 September 2018 (Auckland Central City Library) 5MIN X 2