There was a football game Sunday night. The Baltimore Ravens played the Buffalo Bills. The Baltimore Ravens lost. Mark Andrews dropped a game-tying pass in the final minute. It hit him right in the chest.
There is a world where Andrews catches the ball. There is a world where the Baltimore Ravens win the game. There is world where they kick the ever-loving shit out of the Kansas City Chiefs and go on to win the fucking super bowl.
I am choosing to live in that world.
I will watch the AFC championship game next week. I will watch the players dash and dance and catch the brown prolate spheroid. The light from the screen will register on my retinas. My visual cortex will process the signals sent from my retinas. Neurotransmitters will be released into my synapses. Every fact of the universe will indicate that I am watching the Bills play the Chiefs, but I will not be watching the Bills play the Chiefs, because I will be in a different universe, a universe where the Ravens are playing in the AFC championship game.
There exists, for everyone, a sentence—a series of words—that has the power to destroy you. (Philip K Dick)
On September 13th, 2023, I posted a short essay entitled, “the sentence that destroys you”. To Dick’s sentence, I added the following sentences:
Is there an utterance that could unmake you?
Is there a string of syllables that could shatter you?
Is there an idea or fact so incongruent with your model of reality that learning it would unravel you?
What I saw sunday night was that utterance, was that string of syllables, was that idea or fact which was so incongruent with my model of reality that learning it has caused my unraveling.
Grown men wearing colorful costumes. Very large and angry and serious men. Very fast men. They are playing with a ball. Everyone wants the ball. You need to move the ball to win. Very fast with the ball. Throw the ball. Toss the ball. Whatever it takes to win with the ball.
People are dying. Horrific deaths ending sad, miserable lives. Apocalypses. Entire biospheres exterminated. Planets consumed in hellfire. The most dreadful beings. The most hateful entities.
Do not tell me it’s just a game.
I know it’s just a game.
I know.
I have never met the man who is named Lamar Jackson.
I should never meet the man who is named Lamar Jackson.
They say you should never meet your heroes, but what do they say about meeting your god? Seeing your god, hearing your god, touching your god. Caressing your god. Tasting your god.
He is the best with the ball. No one is better with the ball. Very fast man with the ball. Very good thrower of the ball. But he can’t throw the ball and catch the ball. All-star tight end Mark Andrews is supposed to catch the ball.
Do you know what it’s like to watch your god suffer?
Were you at Golgotha? Will you be at Ragnarök?
Do you know what it’s like to watch your god die?
It sates itself on the life-blood of fated men,
paints red the powers’ homes with crimson gore.
Black become the sun’s beams in the summers that follow.
Do you still seek to know?
And what?
Brothers will fight and kill each other,
sisters’ children will defile kinship.
It is harsh in the world, whoredom rife
—an axe age, a sword age
—shields are riven—
a wind age, a wolf age—
before the world goes headlong.
Do you know what it’s like to smash your great grandfather’s wood carving into pieces because you were angry that your silly little team lost the silly ball game? Do you know what it’s like to destroy a family heirloom with your bare hands?
Do you know what it’s like to have a drinking problem? Do you know what it feels like to feel so much shame that you can’t even look yourself in the mirror?
Did you know that Hennessy XO was created by Maurice Hennessy in 1870 for his circle of friends? Did you know that its intense and deep colour is a sign of its robustness? Did you know that XO’s lingering finish expresses all the complexity of its blending and long ageing process?
There is a sentence that comes after the Dick sentence I shared earlier.
There exists, for everyone, a sentence—a series of words—that has the power to destroy you. Another sentence exists, another series of words, that could heal you. If you're lucky you will get the second, but you can be certain of getting the first.
I have gotten the first sentence.
I must be a lucky man because I have also gotten the second.
“I’m just as hurt as Mark,” Jackson said. “It’s not his fault. All of us played a factor in that game. It’s a team effort. We’re not going to put that on Mark because he’s been battling all season. He’s been doing all the great things he’s been doing all season. It [doesn’t] always go our way. We want it to, but at the moment in time, it’s not going our way. We need to figure it out.”
The purity of Lamar Jackson’s heart. The grace and charity and love and raw sexual energy which radiates from every fiber of his blessed being.
Even though we set up different ball teams to play fun ball games, we are all on the same team in this game called life. Be a good teammate in ball game and in life game, even when things don’t go your way. Be like Lamar.
There is one thing, too, in which the wise man actually surpasses any god: a god has nature to thank for his immunity from fear, while the wise man can thank his own efforts for this. Look at that for an achievement, to have all the frailty of a human being and all the freedom of care of a god.
I hope you’re ok man. Let me share a story with you.
In the past year, I looked into my genetic history, and since my dad was adopted, half of it was unknown.
Well, long story short, I discovered that my grandfather was a violent, rampaging, alcoholic rapist, that met my grandmother as he got out of jail for almost beating his first wife to death. Predictably, alcoholism also runs on that side of the family, and led many to ruin.
I knew I drank a bit too much then, but especially after learning that— I decided that I would no longer keep any booze in my house. I still drink, and enjoy imbibing quite a number, but because it’s only in social situations, it limits itself, and I don’t feel I have a problem.
Idk whether or not you have a drinking problem and I have no desire to preach, but stay safe brother. I enjoy your writing, and I’d hate to see the booze eat your soul and stop your pen.
My condolences. I kept thinking of Jung's remark about killing your hero, a modern sentiment to be sure and a puzzle to most.
"[...]Then Siegfried's horn resounded over the mountains with a jubilant sound. We knew that our mortal enemy was coming. We were armed and lurked beside a narrow rocky path to murder him. Then we saw him coming high across the mountains on a chariot made of the bones of the dead. He drove boldly and magnificently over the steep rocks and arrived at the narrow path where we waited in hiding. As he came around the turn ahead of us, we fired at the same time and he fell, slain. Thereupon I turned to flee, and a terrible rain swept down. But after this, I went through a torment unto death and I felt certain that I must kill myself if I could not solve the riddle of the murder of the hero.
Then the spirit of the depths came to me and spoke these words:
“The highest truth is one and the same with the absurd." This statement saved me, and like rain after a long hot spell, it swept away everything in me which was too highly tensed.
Then I had a second vision: I saw a merry garden, in which forms walked clad in white silk, all covered in colored light, some reddish, the others blueish and greenish.
I know, I have stridden across the depths. Through guilt I have become a newborn." From the Red Book.