proust challenge: day one

an introduction

Last week I got everyone’s favorite annual email reminder from Squarespace: your domain is scheduled to renew in 15 days. That’s when I remembered I pay money for this website and I need to get better at using it. This blog especially, the point of which was to write into the void as a means of creating a “practice”. The issue on the table is that I suck. I cannot write unprompted on any regular basis. Not at this point in my life. And that’s okay. Really, it’s fine. Sometimes you just need a jumping off point.

I’m going to attempt a project, and I invite you to join me. I recently found a folded and forgotten copy of the “Kilometer Zero Proust Questionnaire” in a desk drawer - a set of 30 simple questions designed to reveal your “true nature” …likes and dislikes, dreams and fears... you get the idea. Marcel Proust did not create it, though he was famously one of the first to answer it. Back in the day - back when rich people entertained guests in parlors or whatever - it was a “party game” of sorts. It remains a popular interview format, and many celebrities have since opened their hearts and minds to the public. (Check out Bowie’s. It’s great.) “Kilometer Zero” refers to where this particular edition was picked up; Paris’ beloved Shakespeare & Co. lies at the exact center point of the city, hence the Zero. Who knew?

I am laughably bad at giving simple answers to open-ended questions. So that’s not the idea. The idea is to use each question as a free-write prompt and take it from there. Fuck grammar. Fuck a story. Fuck you. …Kidding. Maybe if I’m lucky (AKA consistent) this blog will finally start to emerge as the ever-evolving image of myself I originally intended. Let’s see if I can keep it up. And now…

Question One: What is your present state of mind?

What is my present state of mind?

My present state of mind is the Beach.

A full awareness of my surroundings, but with no specific thought running through my head. The sound of the ocean. The heat and the feeling of burnt skin I love so much because I can and I’m Italian and young and skin cancer is a future problem. The sand in my ass. All of it. So physical. No other thoughts. Just experience and the body. It’s heavenly.

Except, when it comes to the Blank Page, my present state of mind is not the Beach. It is Mexico City. It is silence while in search of an answer. It is a blankness I try to transform into words. In other words, it’s Hell. In reality, my experience of Mexico City was the search for a question: what are you feeling? what are you doing here? what are you searching for? what are you trying to achieve? And then: nothing.

My present state of mind is Mexico City. It’s radio silence when I want some noise. Noise when all I want is silence.

This makes me think about my foray into meditation. I’ve had some good runs and some not so good. 14 days here and there on Headspace. Then, a three or four (or five) day bender-type situation that results not in mindfulness but in total mindless-ness. That silence, the nothingness I speak of? Seems to kind of be the point. “The Blue Sky”, Andy Puddicombe calls it. Sometimes, like on the beach, it’sheavenit’sblissit’speace. But then you’re in Mexico City where for some reason one goes to ponder existence and question “what’s next for my career” and instead can only ask “why is it so hot” and “where are the taco stands” and “why are there so many auto parts shops” and “where the fuck is everyone” … in Mexico City that so sought-after blue sky, that mental peace and quiet, is a mocking torture. 

Andy Puddicombe would tell me to be okay with it. To accept the present moment for what it is. To embrace the nothingness inside my head. And I get that. Sometimes I’m actually quite good at it. Not thinking is generally far more pleasant. 

But guess what Andy? I’m trying to fucking write. I am literally desperate to think thoughts. This is what I would like to do as a job. And so then what? If I’m trying to meditate on my feelings and my place in the world and my future and nothing happens? Well then, I have nothing to say. There are quite literally no words to put down on the page and no career in writing humanly possible.

And yet… here I am. Here are the words. Maybe I need to look at writing like meditation itself. Notice the thoughts as they float by, like clouds. But don’t dwell too much on them. Don’t force it. Don’t analyze. I’ve always been bad at not editing myself mid-thought, mid-sentence. 

My present state of mind is presence. Which is maybe why I’ve been able to write 500 words in 10 minutes. Maybe less. Not sure. If I think too much about writing it’ll never happen. If I think too much about a task, it’ll never get done. 

As long as I attempt to relocate to the Beach and not force myself into Mexico City, perhaps the words will come as easy as the waves.