2007-03-12 - 3:25 p.m.
Mu Current Self Interviews My Future Self Using Zombie Graham Bell's Fourth Dimension Telephone
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Current Self: Do you regret it?
Future Self: (laughing) You need to be more specific for me to be able to answer that.
CS: Right. Sorry. What I mean is, do you regret what you had written on our mom's tombstone?
FS: (thinking) To be honest, I haven't thought about that in a long time. That probably means I don't. No. I don't regret doing that.
CS: Should I blog this? I haven't blogged in a while and Zombie Graham Bell scares me. I might not be able to talk to you again, Future Self. So maybe we should tell the whole story...
FS: OK. Where do we start? I've had the idea in the back of my mind since I was you, so maybe you should start us off.
CS: Right. And the idea began when I read somewhere that to be a grown up is to be free from desire.
FS: (laughing) I'd forgotten about that... Where did we read that?
CS: I think it was in the liner notes to an album by The Strokes. And I take it from your laughter that you still think that definition of adulthood is really dumb.
FS: It might not be dumb to some people. But, to us, it simply doesn't, and never will, apply.
CS: Will I ever feel like a grown up, Future Self? Do you feel like a grown up?
FS: No. Using money still strikes me as very much like a silly game of bean bags. Everytime I buy liquor, I still feel just a tiny bit bad-ass doing so. And, even when you are me, you'll still be secretly imagining yourself as some sort of undercover agent everytime you need to deal with laws and the government. Trust me, it's better this way. It's too terrifying to feel comfortable being a grown up, and doing grown up things, without your imagination alongside.
CS: I can understand that. Where were we Future Self?
FS: Being a grown up by being free from desire seemed irrelevant, but a worth a try despite that.
CS: Right. And, as you well know, I've long desired to say a very definitive Fuck You to my mom, but never got a chance to in which she would understand that I'd done that because she is a bitch, not me. Also, my husband says that I should be nice to her and, even when I'm really hard pressed to come up with reasons to agree, I know that he's right.
FS: And yet, some twenty-five years later, the idea was still kicking around, and so, after consulting with our sister, I had "It's OK. We probably won't miss her much" engraved on her tombstone.
CS: Yeah... Are you sure that you don't regret doing that?
FS: (thinking) Well, as it turns out, that was basically true. Why feel bad for saying things that are true?
