I am not funny anymore feels as though it has finally achieved penultimate meaning as a longtime habitual phrase of mine - as in, I can no longer remember a tangible self without that sentiment always at the ready in a handy intercranial stash. Its significant, I think - the assuredness of my confidence saying it, now, after the year two thousand and twenty-one. The sensation of it has always been most powerful when reading the oldest of my words published, here, but it now has so much more substance,
[ ] I both miss and am disgusted by that me, but he has now departed entirely. Of this, I am also most certain
[ ] …and it is certainty more than anything that I’ve sought this year, I think, as my personal inventory of it managed to drop off suddenly to nill.
[ ] The argument that this general process is the very most natural for my age - the Peak Specialization Period on the general Human Existence roadmap - has been platituded to all fuck, and yet I cling to it newly and with ever-renewed desperation as I have to any and all authentic manifestations of certainty, of late - even the common knowledge sort I still viscerally despise.
