it's all business in my kitchen (yeah, i don't know what i'm doing)

March 17

“These people, more or less native to Chile, had this theory, or maybe belief is the better word for it probably, that all people carry all of their relatives with them. Like in their blood, in their heads. Their point was that not only are you of the same blood as those in your bloodline, but you carry all of their memories with you, all of their souls. You carry their dreams and their pains and their anger and everything. Raymond was talking a lot about the bad stuff you carry. Like if your relatives died in some wrong way.”

“Sounds terrifying.”

“No, they made it sound okay. It’s like a density thing. Apparently they wanted that density of soul. Apparently they see the soul the opposite we do, where it’s this light wispy ghost thing. They think of it like a mountain. Like a mountain each of us carried around, and you want your mountain strong and dense, because that means your family has lived lives of great experience. But the trick I guess is to find a way to move around.”

“With your mountain.”
“Yeah. This is where I got a little lost.”

“Well, I guess you can hear from these people, the dead and the people who share your blood, your parents first and everyone else, aunts and uncles, on and on—So the point is, these are the people you’re responsible to. You’re literally carrying them with you at all times. You’re you but you’re also them. You die and become of a chorus, a voice in a chorus. And so when we talk, you and I, we’re speaking on some level with the voices of thousands.

It’s just this illusion we live with, the illusion that we want to forget things. That we need to forget so we can live, because everything is too much, our burdens are so great we need to self-lobotomize, at least partially, chemically, or whatever, right?

But these people want to carry around everything and everyone. They walk with thousands in each step, speaking with thousands with every word. They forget nothing, you know—they recognize the weight of the mountains.”

-You Shall Know Our Velocity! (Dave Eggers)

So it’s a little much and prophetic, but the bold part, this illusion that we need to be free and forgetful: I like this, I empathize with this. It strikes this sort of innate chord, that’s new and unsullied, yet familiar, comforting. Why do we do this? Maybe I’ve experienced things that have been shocking or painful, but I never want to forget them, they minister to my living, they define me. Nothing is too much. Sorry I write about books instead of my real life. I have a really good life.