From the Oxford English Dictionary
hypocrite, n.
From the Middle English by way of Old French: ecclesiastical; and the Greek: One who falsely professes to be virtuously or religiously inclined; one who pretends to have feelings or beliefs of a higher order than his real ones: A pretender, a dissembler, an actor on the stage.
It’s all about me, unfortunately. Every prescriptive pearl is aimed at me. I use the word ‘you” but I mean me. Do you? Don’t you? Don’t we all?
1. You’ll Tire of Me
A disclaimer. I’m on about peace now. But peace can’t come from me. It has to come from you. Help is the sunny side of control (Anne LaMott). So I’m not here to help. I’m here to tell you to be bold because you’re going to die much sooner than you think. Bold means being bold with the fear that is in front of you. There is no banishing fear. When I write these things I know I should shut up. I’m helping too much. You’re going to get turned off by me. It’s okay. There will be others.
2. Be Boring
When you turn your phone off, turn yourself off too. Unplug everything around you. Try to be with yourself once in a while. When you’re sitting there open up yourself to possibilities. They won’t come if you’re staring at that thing. They’ll only come if you’re bored. Being boring is highly underrated. It’s the cheapest, fastest way to inspiration.
3. Bad Math
When we compare ourselves we are using false models. We see the facade of someone else and we compare it to the inner workings of ourselves. The equation does’t hold up. You don’t know the whole story. X + ___ does not equal Z. You came up with Z all by yourself. But it’s not the truth.
4. Ideas
Don’t have them. They shut others out. Inspiration comes when you’re open, generous, slutty even. Be a slut with your growth mindset. Go to bed with any and all ways of doing things. Not to brag but I have a friend that is an anti-vaxxer. Top that. Not that we go to bed with one another. You know what I mean. You don’t have to agree with everyone at Thanksgiving for you to travel across the country to see them.
5. Blame Yourself
The things that are our fault are the things we can control. If you played a role in your victimhood (and it almost always takes two to tango) then you have agency. We have little control over most things but ourselves. When bad things happen ask yourself What part did I play in that? Point the finger of blame at yourself. That’s where the learning is. The fetishization of victimhood is a wide net and it comes with a lot of bycatch. Recently I screwed up with my youngest. I can’t even explain why I was cruel last night over a game of Blackjack. I didn’t think I was that competitive. After I apologized I tried not to beat myself up but I couldn’t stop. I still can’t. This behaviour cuts me off from making stuff. I can’t stop thinking about it. My inner victim is highjacking my day. I did this once in university when I was wrongfully accused of something. I moped around for far too long. When I’m like this I’m giving away all of my agency. I’ve become rather useless to myself and others. Fatherhood or motherhood must have a lot to do with being useful. So as I wallow I continue to not meet the very responsibilities I had failed at meeting during the blackjack game.
6. Frank O’Hara
“And I am out on a limb, and it is the arm of God.” Frank O'Hara wrote that. Out on a limb means being in the unknown. You’re in a spot just off course from the trail you’re familiar with. This is where art happens. It’s uncomfortable, awkward, your face goes red when you’re there, you don’t quite know what to do. That’s where you want to be. That’s where it all happens. It’s stressful but it’s the good kind. And then it ends and then you breathe a sigh of relief and you look around and your people are there too. The clowns, the misfits and the fools. Those are the people you want to emulate. The ones that are making art for others in spite of a bottom line.
7. The Life You Live is Yours to Give
The things that happened to you really happened. This is your grist for your mill. If it happened you’re allowed to talk about it. If it’s useful to you then use it. What else is it there for? No more secrets. Secrets are bad. They fester, they protect Catholic pedos and corporate greed. Fuck secrets, they’re for crooks. (Shoutout to Dougie Ford!) The best thing about being a writer is that when bad things happen (and they always do) you can rejoice in the recent acquisition of more ammunition. Art doesn’t happen when everything is peachy.
8. Purpose
The only thing that will fill the void is the art you make. That feeling of fulfilment is all. It’s not cash or publication or views or likes. You know this already because you’ve been there. If you’re creating something you’re doing the very thing that you are compelled to do. That’s peace right there. For what more could anyone ask of you? Nothing. You’re fulfilling your requirements. You’ve read all the way to the end of the instructions before assembling.
9. Friends
Your friends will save you. Do whatever it takes to find your people and then regularly buy them dinner. Do it over and over. Don’t be stingy. I was stingy (see earlier post on frugalness.) until I realized breaking bread with friends is the antidote to pretty much everything.
10. Stomachs
You’re allowed to have one. These days stomachs have been banished. Big butts are suddenly okay — but for how long? Now we must all have visible ab muscles. This is incorrect. Your voice comes from your belly (aka your bellows). My singing teacher Elizabeth taught me this. Don’t strangle your voice. Bellows require air. Not a lot. Just enough. It’s okay to look the way you do. Keep those bellows loose. Being fixated on a flat stomach strangles your voice and more importantly it makes you talk about how often you go to the gym and that is the worst conversation topic around.
The profligate spread of vocal fry comes from our incessant need for flat tummies. We think that if we stop breathing we’ll look better. If we just don’t let our stomachs out people will love us but the result is no one can actually hear what we’re saying.
And yet social media is all about everyone explaining everything to us. We are a world of influencers.
Of what? Of whom?
11. Intimacy Issues
Laughter is intimacy. When we laugh we show others inside of ourselves. When we make others laugh we can see inside of them. Laughter is to commune between hearts. It is the very best thing you can do with people. You don’t have intimacy issues if you can drag yourself to a comedy club with another person. You’re fine. You just need to take more of that medicine and then get your prescription filled regularly.
12. Stop Drinking So Much Water
You’re not dehydrated. If you were you'd be in the hospital. Just relax and quit weaponizing everything. Think for yourself for God’s sake. Drink water when you’re thirsty. The human thirst mechanism is alive and well. Call bullshit on yourself. You can get water from coffee or an apple or broccoli. And there’s no scientific evidence that caffein is a diuretic. Quit giving your kids water bottles as big as their heads. They have brains. They’ll get water when they need it. Just shut up for a while.
13. Don’t Be So Surprised Everything is Terrible
When faced with adversity know that that is the natural state of the world: a shit sandwich. It’s cold comfort so take warm action. That’s the required response. An action that will warm your soul, feed your creativity and generate community. Find your people. Create together. Remember why we got into this in the first place. It doesn’t have to add to your workload or your list of obligations. It’s not meant to get you into your head. It can be writing in your journal, or painting or singing in a choir or whatever. Start small. The key is art should be about others not just about you. Art that resonates leaves room for an audience.
14. You Have to Give it for it to be Art
The way you find an audience is by making art that means something, that says something. If you want to be heard you have to make a statement. Don’t worry about the hustle yet. You have to have something to hustle before you start hustling. We try, try, try and then we die. That’s the entire trip. When somebody asks you what your plan is you say, “Well, I’m going to try something and see if it works. And if it doesn’t I’m going to try something else. And if that isn’t quite what I want then I’m going to pivot a little and try something else. I’m going to keep trying and in this trying I’m going to find my people, my like-minded weirdoes and we’re going to make stuff together, and laugh together, and fall in love and fall out of love and we’ll vacation together and we’ll be there for each other all the while making art together and then when I’m old and grey they’re going to walk me home. And I them. And that’s it. And when we admit we must make art, whatever that may be, we then admit something truly empowering: we can’t fail. You can’t fail if you’re making art. You just can’t. It’s yours but you make it for others. It’s a gift. You are gifted. So give it.