Self Portrait with Angel Olsen

This is what I have done with my life –

Alone, I have moved to the edge of a vast desert to live in a cold apartment with high ceilings, wooden floorboards, a dusty chandelier, and a claw foot tub. There is a large bedroom for my single mattress (with its sharp springs and sleeping-bag blanket) and a large bedroom for my desk (a weathered kitchen table harvested from the street side). On this desk sit stacks of paper, an open laptop, a burning candle that lights little and heats nothing, and a glass ashtray filled with pencil shavings. On the stacks of paper are the hasty and searching sentences that make up the first draft of my first novel. And on the laptop (the laptop open in front of my eyes) is a video that is not pornography. Because yesterday I learned that diddling one’s self while watching others engage in loveless sex does not quell the sensation that you are ultimately alone in this world. And you are ultimately alone in this world. Even if you’re in a relationship. Even if you’re a siamese twin. We are alone because we will never know what it is like to live behind another’s eyes…

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