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Eddie Huang: You Wasn't With Us Shootin In The Gym
“Even in a post-Sandy-recession-America, we’re paralyzed by choice and many times… opportunity. I can remember what soup dumplings tasted like when I was 6. I can remember exactly how I felt when Webber called the timeout and I can tell you what it was like watching the Berlin Wall come down, but I can’t for the life of me remember what I wanted to do 20 minutes ago without google calendar. I can’t write without a billion fucking digital sticky notes and I can’t be on time for anything even if all I had to do is put on underwear and click on Skype, but it’s not because I’m not trying. I am.
But it’s also not because I don’t have the resources because I do. Anyone who tells you they “can’t” do something is lying. Anything is possible and not only is it possible, but it’s possible this AM, this PM, ASAP, EOD, and if you’re across 110th St: V$VP. Yet, every day I fuck it up. Why is it that we have every thing and nothing all at the same time? Because we let old fools TELL US we’re fucking it up.
I like that we respect the past. I like that we shop vintage, design retro, and eat slow. I like the resentment our generation has for the mundane, the processed, the co-opted. I like that it’s not good enough to just drink beer unless its incredibly shitty cheap beer or incredibly overpriced artisinal beer with a clever name and transcendental graphic design that somehow says every thing we need to know in 12oz increments. I like that people see the value in old dim sum parlors or Mario’s on Arthur Ave. We are expected to know what’s best. We are expected to know all. We are expected because we have access.
But look Mom and Dad, our “access” and our opportunity is a lie just like that time they dangled Miami in front of Lefty (Donnie Brasco). The internet is just a really fast newspaper. Iphones are just another layer and parents just don’t understand that our generation has its own challenges. The same questions you couldn’t answer about life, happiness, and existence elude us too. The internet only holds what we put in it. So get the fuck out of my head and let me live.”
(Note: Every generation thinks the next one is or going to fuck it up.)
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Live Like You’re Dying by Chuck Palahniuk
I’m reblogging this old post from over a year and a half ago because, just like everyone else, I think of the New Year as a new opportunity. And this article by Chuck Palahniuk never fails to remind me of that.
In the new April 2010 issue of Men’s Health, Author Chuck Palahniuk crafted a beautiful piece in The Best Life section entitled “Live Like You’re Dying”.
In addition to exercising regularly and eating right, I make it a top priority to commit suicide every couple of years…
…Self-euthanasia is a major trend in the making. Each year in the United States, some 26,000 men die by their own hand, including some smarter, braver men than you and me. Hunter S. Thompson, Kurt Cobain, Spalding Gray, David Foster Wallace. These were men of infinite accomplishment, finances, and talent, and we will miss them. But if you’re going to check out, you must first promise to take on a more difficult task. You’ll have to wait 7 days, and in that last week of your life, you’ll have to perform what I glibly refer to as the Three C’s. Don’t worry, the time will fly by. Like the final week at a job you hate, every moment will be gilded with nostalgia and sweetened with the knowledge that you’re a dead man walking. The Ultimate Temp. The game’s almost over, and you’re just running out the clock.
The first C stands for Clean.
Clean your bathroom. Clean your car. Do the laundry and scrub the grout. Pull out the refrigerator and wipe behind it. Wash the windows. Do everything.
The second C stands for Cull.
Ransack your files and discard everything except your most important papers. The same goes for your closet and memorabilia-really, all your possessions. If you haven’t looked at it recently, toss it. Donate it. Destroy it. Throw all your history and secrets into the garbage. Do the same with aged contents of your medicine cabinet and kitchen. Also, spring for a really good haircut. Despite popular superstition, human hair does not grow beyond death, so you might as well look good. Treat yourself. Pamper, pamper, pamper; you have my permission……The third C stands for Connect.
This means contacting everyone you’ve known and saying something nice. No matter how much you hate them, let go of that bitterness. Identify some aspect of each person, something you’ve secretly admired or envied or coveted, and praise that something. Say how jealous you were of his career or happy marriage or a particular merino wool mock-turtleneck sweater. Yes, this process feels like a huge humiliation, but what do you have to lose? Forget your self-pity. Forget your anger and defensiveness. Forgive everybody and forgive yourself. In another week they’ll be gazing down into your casket, feeling just awful. So for now, throw them a bone. Give them a break.Beyond that, fully imagine your death: the cozy warmth, the pleasant wooziness. The sound of your favorite film or music playing in the background. Envision your sparkling bathroom and empty filing cabinets. Then imagine the world without you. The same traffic jams and famines. The same political crap fights and your team never making the playoffs. People will forget you. Everyone will forget you. You’re not Kurt Cobain, so just light your barbecue and toast a marshmallow.
But if you’ve completed the Three C’s, chances are good that you won’t bother. Because by then you’ll be surrounded by friends who now recognize you as a valuable, sensitive guy. Your oven will be clean, your car vacuumed. In the same way you procrastinated on your taxes, you can procrastinate on your death. And, at least for a moment, your hair looks…really great.
