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Thinking Over FEAR BOOK FIRST LOOK
HELLO TO YOU ALL WELCOME TO THIS EXCITING POST! I put in a little effort here and made a video version of the dang audio post. So you can really imagine you’re there with me and we are friends and all that. (Imagine as well as you’re able we are friends; and you may find at the end of your imagining that it is so :) )
I read briefly from my play and the talk about fear and growth for a moment, and then ask desperately for anyone to be my friend. I find it to be a good one. Watch or listen if you got some time and also want to and also are in a position to. As always the quoted bit is below. All summer loves and beautiful lives to you all we surely deserve it.
Peace, Love, Easy Life, Easy Death-
Oliver
JOAN: I have a story I want to tell you. Once,
A man found himself in a desert, wandering,
and though it spread around him there was one
direction he couldn’t move in, just one, and so he moved away from it. And as he walked through he passed many interesting things; a cactus, jackrabbit, stones. Each one he passed appeared almost suddenly and then disappeared slowly behind him. He loved those things and each time they left he was saddened. Some of them were rare, some of them he would see over and over again.
JOAN: Then after a long time walking he suddenly noticed ahead of him that on the horizon was something grey and steel; it spread out beyond comprehension in either direction. After a while he understood this sublime wall to be hull of a great ship, one that supersedes the understanding of a simple man. He marveled at it as he approached. Was this once an ocean? he thought. Finally he arrived at the foot of it. He stopped walking as there was nowhere to step. He wished to pass, can I walk around? he thought. No. You cannot circumvent this ship. you will perish of old age trying.
JOAN: He stood at the base of it, unsure-
unable to go back, unable to move forward,
until he realized something: it was a ship,
he thought, I must look to its expanse and find an opening.
JOAN: He laid his head against its unbearable mass, rested his cheek upon the metal and felt the cold of it. He looked out against the infinite plain of the hull, (the way
it is more than infinite, the way it is advancing)
for a chip, a digression in the face. He found one. Slowly
he made his way there with his eyes unmoving, grasped
the opening with his hands. He noted the soft bevel, the sharp bits. He counted to three, held his breath and peered inside. It was overwhelming. He gazed deep into the black nothing, and, terrified, pulled away and sat down in the sand.
JOAN: For a long time he sat in the sand, waiting for something. Without moving, without the jackrabbits and cacti, it was impossible to tell how long he had sat there. But his eyes began to crease, And his skin hardened in the sun and wind. He looked at the porthole intermittently, and then less and less. The things he had passed and loved were nearby enough, still visible behind him. They would disappear if he went inside. He made himself comfortable in the sand; His unhappiness grew. He could get no closer to those things he loved, and he saw nothing new.
JOAN: There came a day finally, when his unhappiness was no longer bearable. Still, the absence of life in the ship seemed worse than his misery. He wanted to die. Really, he felt he was already dead. In a fit of desperation, he peered once again into the black of the ship. Why was he cursed to come this way? He wondered, why was he destined for this misery? His existence seemed pointless. It would end here if he did not move. Okay, he finally thought. Nothing Else. No, this porthole is your life. It’s all you have left.
THEO has wandered back to his chair through this monologue and sits looking at the mirror.
THEO: he’s meant to be me?
JOAN: It’s an allegory.
THEO: For me? I have a ship?
JOAN: For anyone. (pause) but yes, you might.
THEO: Hm.
THEO (takes a sip of his drink. the last sip. looks at it mournfully).
THEO: It’s sort of boring. 'The only way out is through.' I don’t really get much out of platitudes.
and it continues…
THEO takes a sip of his drink. The last sip. He looks at it disappointed, then back at the mirror.
THEO: So this man, he went in and what happened?
JOAN: (dully) Oh yes, He went in. (resumes narrative voice) The air was stale and cold on his face. As he fumbled through the hole his hands found a floor. he sat there touching it, comforted, oddly, by some sense of dimension in the space. After he rested for a while he noticed a screw head, a lone piece of information in the otherwise black room. He stared at it hard. And then, suddenly, in his periphery he saw another. His eyes were adjusting, just a little. He was less scared. He started walking and
after a timeless period of darkness he felt there was a soft haze of light. It was difficult terrain, but the haze made more and more visible the obstacles. The man’s joints started at last to loosen, and he knew finally that he would make it through. One day, in the growing haze of light, he passed by a large piece of old machinery, and was confronted by a small hole in the distance, creating a solid beam of sun. It was beautiful. The man thought about the cacti, and rocks, and jackrabbits and ran forward with renewed energy. His legs ached and he was out of breath but he could not slow down. He neared the hole. He saw the blue of sky. He felt fresh air. He plunged his head through the opening. (rests)
THEO: And so he made it?
JOAN: He came out on the other side, yes, and saw many new things, but was old and tired. He could not experience them the way he had before. He died shortly after.
THEO: An unceremonious ending. What a waste. I hate it.
JOAN: Yes.
THEO: Well. (walks over to the table.) Could use another drink, I suppose. (sits down, situates self.)
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit boliverb.substack.com
Be well <3
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit boliverb.substack.com
View all episodes
By with Oliver BurellHELLO TO YOU ALL WELCOME TO THIS EXCITING POST! I put in a little effort here and made a video version of the dang audio post. So you can really imagine you’re there with me and we are friends and all that. (Imagine as well as you’re able we are friends; and you may find at the end of your imagining that it is so :) )
I read briefly from my play and the talk about fear and growth for a moment, and then ask desperately for anyone to be my friend. I find it to be a good one. Watch or listen if you got some time and also want to and also are in a position to. As always the quoted bit is below. All summer loves and beautiful lives to you all we surely deserve it.
Peace, Love, Easy Life, Easy Death-
Oliver
JOAN: I have a story I want to tell you. Once,
A man found himself in a desert, wandering,
and though it spread around him there was one
direction he couldn’t move in, just one, and so he moved away from it. And as he walked through he passed many interesting things; a cactus, jackrabbit, stones. Each one he passed appeared almost suddenly and then disappeared slowly behind him. He loved those things and each time they left he was saddened. Some of them were rare, some of them he would see over and over again.
JOAN: Then after a long time walking he suddenly noticed ahead of him that on the horizon was something grey and steel; it spread out beyond comprehension in either direction. After a while he understood this sublime wall to be hull of a great ship, one that supersedes the understanding of a simple man. He marveled at it as he approached. Was this once an ocean? he thought. Finally he arrived at the foot of it. He stopped walking as there was nowhere to step. He wished to pass, can I walk around? he thought. No. You cannot circumvent this ship. you will perish of old age trying.
JOAN: He stood at the base of it, unsure-
unable to go back, unable to move forward,
until he realized something: it was a ship,
he thought, I must look to its expanse and find an opening.
JOAN: He laid his head against its unbearable mass, rested his cheek upon the metal and felt the cold of it. He looked out against the infinite plain of the hull, (the way
it is more than infinite, the way it is advancing)
for a chip, a digression in the face. He found one. Slowly
he made his way there with his eyes unmoving, grasped
the opening with his hands. He noted the soft bevel, the sharp bits. He counted to three, held his breath and peered inside. It was overwhelming. He gazed deep into the black nothing, and, terrified, pulled away and sat down in the sand.
JOAN: For a long time he sat in the sand, waiting for something. Without moving, without the jackrabbits and cacti, it was impossible to tell how long he had sat there. But his eyes began to crease, And his skin hardened in the sun and wind. He looked at the porthole intermittently, and then less and less. The things he had passed and loved were nearby enough, still visible behind him. They would disappear if he went inside. He made himself comfortable in the sand; His unhappiness grew. He could get no closer to those things he loved, and he saw nothing new.
JOAN: There came a day finally, when his unhappiness was no longer bearable. Still, the absence of life in the ship seemed worse than his misery. He wanted to die. Really, he felt he was already dead. In a fit of desperation, he peered once again into the black of the ship. Why was he cursed to come this way? He wondered, why was he destined for this misery? His existence seemed pointless. It would end here if he did not move. Okay, he finally thought. Nothing Else. No, this porthole is your life. It’s all you have left.
THEO has wandered back to his chair through this monologue and sits looking at the mirror.
THEO: he’s meant to be me?
JOAN: It’s an allegory.
THEO: For me? I have a ship?
JOAN: For anyone. (pause) but yes, you might.
THEO: Hm.
THEO (takes a sip of his drink. the last sip. looks at it mournfully).
THEO: It’s sort of boring. 'The only way out is through.' I don’t really get much out of platitudes.
and it continues…
THEO takes a sip of his drink. The last sip. He looks at it disappointed, then back at the mirror.
THEO: So this man, he went in and what happened?
JOAN: (dully) Oh yes, He went in. (resumes narrative voice) The air was stale and cold on his face. As he fumbled through the hole his hands found a floor. he sat there touching it, comforted, oddly, by some sense of dimension in the space. After he rested for a while he noticed a screw head, a lone piece of information in the otherwise black room. He stared at it hard. And then, suddenly, in his periphery he saw another. His eyes were adjusting, just a little. He was less scared. He started walking and
after a timeless period of darkness he felt there was a soft haze of light. It was difficult terrain, but the haze made more and more visible the obstacles. The man’s joints started at last to loosen, and he knew finally that he would make it through. One day, in the growing haze of light, he passed by a large piece of old machinery, and was confronted by a small hole in the distance, creating a solid beam of sun. It was beautiful. The man thought about the cacti, and rocks, and jackrabbits and ran forward with renewed energy. His legs ached and he was out of breath but he could not slow down. He neared the hole. He saw the blue of sky. He felt fresh air. He plunged his head through the opening. (rests)
THEO: And so he made it?
JOAN: He came out on the other side, yes, and saw many new things, but was old and tired. He could not experience them the way he had before. He died shortly after.
THEO: An unceremonious ending. What a waste. I hate it.
JOAN: Yes.
THEO: Well. (walks over to the table.) Could use another drink, I suppose. (sits down, situates self.)
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit boliverb.substack.com
Be well <3
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit boliverb.substack.com