Artificial Heart

Lately I have been having dreams that have left me feeling vulnerable. Much of it has to less to do with the content of the dreams themselves. Like my dreams, I have less and less that I wish to say these days, about anything. I find that the anxieties of life are things that manifest deeply upon awakening. The heart, beating during exercise, is an enjoyable, life affirming thing, but at rest, in bed, waking with a racing heart is often a terrifying, unnatural feeling. I find it difficult to manifest or even want to articulate these thoughts, what I find life affirming instead are articles like the one below, from the late Mark Fisher, whose disheartening death seems to be a grand indictment on the state of our times, the nature of capital. Much ink has been spilled in this area by people far wiser than me, and Mark Fisher was one of them. I find it difficult to recommend other, technical literature on Mental Health, books like Experiences of Depression by Matthew Ratcliffe, while helpful in categorical ways, was not something that I found personally insightful. Mark Fisher’s article below was much more helpful in helping me understand that I was not alone, not just in the way I felt but the way I am, as I grow older.

Writing for personal expression can be lonely work, and reading can be lonely work as well. I wish for all of us to connect not just in these times, but through time and space. We grapple with the certain facts of life and its transience, and what we say, as a record, is a way to buffer against that. The artist, On Kawara, had a project that had the simple and direct message of stating ” I am still alive “, in a series of telegrams, often, in times of great confusion, a simple message is the best. In these times, I hope you have been well.

Good For Nothing