CONCEPT
I’m in a bunch of a bind right now.
Like anything, it comes from a bunch of assumptions I make about myself and the world in order to function, and then live by rigorously, even when they are contradicted, as assumptions will be.
1. I am the shit
And no, I’m not being facetious.
Glibly they say, “You can be whatever you want,” and “You can find a way to get anything you want badly enough.”
For two decades I took them literally, after all, that’s the cornerstone of capitalism: we build and when we do it right, we build it up.
And early on, I decided to be very ambitious.
I want to be a True Artist: a Leonardo daVinci, a Victor Hugo, an Zora Neale Hurston, an Andy Kauffman.
I want to be a Superstar: a Billy Corgan, a Mikki Berenyi, a Marshall Mathers.
I want to be a Force: an FDR, a Gandhi, a Jesus.
And because I took those messages so literally, I’m not prepared to be content with one or two of the above.
2. My art is a universe.
There is only one universe we can pretend to truly know: the universe we see, taste, and touch every day.
But I know another universe ever better than this one, and if it is rendered, than others can pretend to pretend to truly know it.
== Urbàntasm is written for our age; America and the world aren’t as far apart as either imagines, and John and his friends are an illustration of this.
== Urbàntasm is written for our youth; it is written by our youth. I drafted the thing in 11th and 12th grade. Seventeen. Eighteen. My characters are thirteen through twenty.
== Urbàntasm is mathematical; it is a geometry that changes as entropy occurs. As such, Urbàntasm is also cosmologically intact. As such, Urbàntasm is inherently iterative.
== Urbàntasm is political. Fuck isms. They all blur and blend. Why capital- has had to happen. Why capital- has failed over and over. Why social- is humanity’s only hope. Why every social- government has sytstematically hunted its people. Why we’ve already crossed the event horizon. Why we can be happy even with the end in sight.
== Urbàntasm is religious. Its points, not of intersection, but oscillation, between “eastern” and “western” thought, or rather, between the conflict between our urges for finitude and immortality.
== Urbàntasm is grounded in action. Murder is less criminal than manslaughter.
Of course, I can offer the point of view that sometimes I come across as an asshole, and maybe I just did. I can even objectively look at those assumptions and admit that they are fatally flawed.
But that isn’t a concession that inspires great art.
And right now, I’m working a shit job that devours my life but doesn’t push towards anything, I’m saving for my wedding, for school, and I haven’t the luxury of being the vigorous writer/activist I want and need to be.
So instead, I’ll admit I’m an arrogant asshole, as long as it gets me to write.
I have to redraft sixteen chapters before work, or my Earth-shaking novel will die.
Tell you what, I will work like a fiend this weekend on those chapters, posting every time I’ve finished a fourth chapter.
I will probably break to see fireworks with my fiancèe, and keep a promise to read her Dragonlance. I will drink coffee to keep me awake and drink rum to keep me loose. I will sleep only when my head slumps over the keyboard. My novel will change the world; it deserves my love and adoration.
And if you have any suggestions or if you can make any suggestions how I can honor my commitments as a fiancè, a son, a brother, a friend, and a man, and retain the time and energy to finish this fucking novel, you let me know.
I’m sick of the shame that attends such requests.
Because I feel like I’m drowning every day these days.
It’s been raining off and on all day. When I feel like rain, I can move for hours and days without pause. And then sleep creeps in, and I just sit and stare. We’re all weak like that.
Here’s to perpetual motion.
~ Connor