Cycle I: Coming on Strong
The Hidden Voice
The Record · 14 (v2.00)
THE HOUSE OF ZAN — Zan
VOICE ADVISORY: The speaking voice is self-reassessment questioning how intention becomes connection. Contains themes of identity, self-presentation, changing expectations, communication, compatibility, and personal responsibility.
Well, after the freeing sensation of saying “fuck it” dissipates, we find ourselves back in a familiar place.
Reality.
The wants, needs, and Ohhh I gotta have it pie-in-the-sky desires are still here.
People are still here.
Against all available evidence, I still want to know them.
Apparently, whatever the latest headlines are, they weren’t enough to scare me off.
Mostly harmless, I suppose.
People change over time.
Sometimes what changes is what we want.
Sometimes it is what we are willing to offer.
Sometimes we discover that the way we have been going about getting either one has been a complete waste of fucking time.
That happens.
I have spent enough time looking at profiles, personal ads, photographs, promises, expectations, fantasies, contradictions, and whatever else people decide to leave scattered around themselves.
I have also spent enough time thinking about what everybody else might be doing wrong.
That’s the easy part.
It is easy to have ideas.
It is easy to sound intelligent while explaining them.
It is even easier to mistake having enough good ideas for knowing what the hell you are doing.
Unfortunately, none of that creates a relationship with another person.
At some point, someone has to stop being a concept.
So do I.
People are confusing.
What they want.
What they offer.
What they expect in return.
Some of that confusion belongs to them.
Some of it is mine.
Fine.
Let’s backtrack.
Not all the way.
No need to start over in Onett.
Just far enough to figure out where the hell we are.
I’m here with the intent to find what I’m seeking.
Period.
But intent is everywhere.
Good intentions.
Bad intentions.
Romantic intentions.
Sexual intentions.
Very serious intentions made before showing up at someone’s place with a boombox and an out-of-this-world playlist.
Intent tells someone what I say I want to happen.
It doesn’t tell them what I’m actually like when I’m standing in front of them.
What am I looking for?
What am I capable of giving?
What would I need from them?
Which parts of myself are flexible?
Which parts are not?
Those questions are considerably less entertaining than explaining what everyone else should be doing with their lives.
Something that begins as one thing can become another without either person having lied about what they originally wanted.
Sometimes you discover something you did not know you wanted.
Sometimes another person brings something out of you that you didn’t know was there.
Sometimes they bring out something that absolutely did exist and probably should have stayed in storage.
The moment you willingly let someone inside your mind, the concept of you becomes a little more complicated.
Not because they get to decide who you are.
Because now someone else gets to have an opinion.
Yours.
Theirs.
Who you think you are.
Who they actually meet.
Those people are not always the same person.
Until someone actually takes the time and effort to build something with me, they are mostly ghosts.
Names.
Pictures.
Messages.
Possibilities.
People who get close enough to matter for a hot minute and then disappear.
Except the memory.
Some version of it, anyway.
I can listen.
I can even admit when they surprise me.
How fucking enlightened of me.
I can write another hundred clever things about attraction, trust, fantasy, desire, and all the strange shit people do while trying to find one another.
Eventually, though, I have to offer something more useful than spiffy little insights.
Myself.
Not as some final statement of who I am supposed to be forever.
Just enough reality to give another person something more substantial than an idea of me.
So, who am I?
A better question:
Who could I be to you?
Maybe that is the invitation.
Maybe I’m the one who has to answer part of it first.
Who am I prepared to be?
What can I actually offer once the clever language runs out?
What happens after someone answers?
An open door doesn’t mean anyone walks through it.
It sure as hell doesn’t mean they stay.
At some point, whoever is standing on the other side has to meet the person who has been doing all this talking.
Perhaps, Companionship?
Perhaps something else.
Either way…
Let’s shoot for the moon!
Worst case, maybe we hit a neighboring planet.
We can always find our way back, right?
Companion Track: “Alarm Call” — Björk
VOICE FEEDBACK: Planetary Exploration — X1