April 18th, 1982
Finally, Spring arrives. A truly glorious day. The Village bathed in intense bright light— the day balmy and mild. The streets are teeming with people and activity— and I’ve had a sense all day of how I love living here.
Early morning, Sadie and I walk to Washington Square. Already it is full of people. We sit on a bench and I bask in the sun for a while— noticing how feeling good feels. I want to develop a balance— a center of joy and well-being. I want to reach a level of harmony— and stay there. I am tired of my tightrope mentality— my mood swings. I am tired of the unhappiness and agitation that can well up in me suddenly and overtake my entire consciousness.
☐ This desire to reach some state of grace and live happily ever after is a stupid notion. Life isn’t like that— and it would be boring if it were. Being fully alive and fully human is being open to a constant flow of varying and often contradictory feelings, emotions, and sensations. Who told you that you are supposed to be high all the time? Certainly, that’s what you sought to achieve through drinking. Life can be boring, and sad and dull, and frightening— it can be tedious and wearisome, and painful— as well as being joyous and exciting and dramatic, and emotional.
☐☐ That’s all very reasoned and sensible. But what do you want?
☐ Goddamn it, I’m sick of being alone— lonely, I want a lover— a relationship— a home— a sense of family. A sense of common destiny. I want a future shared with someone. I want the joy that comes from loving and supporting. I want a lover. And I want a sense of direction to emerge in my work. I want a vocation. An art. I want goals and something to strive for.
☐☐ Yeah, you and every other human being alive today. Do you think your feelings are at all unique or special? Most people are engaged in the process of making a living— working at a job—
☐ What you are asking for is a sense of purpose— direction. meaning. I am looking for a sense of meaning to my life.
What I am in touch with here is a sense of meaningless.
My life is meaningless and lonely. My life is devoid of substance— purpose. It is an existence with no rewards.
Why can’t I develop goals and pursue them? Why do I draw a blank when I try to imagine a vocation— a calling?
Why am I lonely? Why do I not form friendships— How do I not let people into my life? Why do I persist— day after day— year after year— alone?