Objectivity’s a comforting and convenient lie. There’s no such thing, of course? Everything we do or see is shaped by the context of the moment and the perspectives of the participants, but it feels emotionally-expedient to pretend we’re all living the same lives with the same values and needs on some shared plane of existence? It’s easy and as with all easy things, it feels good. It’s easy and as with all easy things, it’s completely counterproductive, but we keep believing them, anyway. Accepting we’re each a tiny discrete bubble of personal reality is the kind of thing that could throw a lot of people into existential-dread spirals. I, myself however, live in one of those permanently, anyway, so it’s no biggie to throw a touch more confusion onto the old ennui pile.
I could see the look of confusion and revulsion on their faces. This was not at all what they had been prepared for. From their pristine blue-jeans and expensive work-boots that had never seen one single scuff from working, you could tell they came from the country music festival on the other side of town that night. Their show was over and the bar I sat in was their next option for continuing revelry. You could tell they believed everyone else in the world or, at the very least, everyone else in these rust-belt towns must possess the same expectations for life as they have.
They were not expecting to walk in and see a drag queen in an alien costume with bright-green flashing dealie-bopper antennae twerking to a techno beat. The Fear in those poor shit-kickers’ eyes! A mere half-mile distance between those bars, a four-minute drive, yet worlds away from each other in terms of cultural expectation. As if they were bewildered tourists in the film ‘Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas’ who’d just stumbled across Hunter Thompson, ranting about lizard people while high on ether. The weight of the moment was more than either could bear to carry. As soon as the reality of the situation sank in, they turned on their un-worn heels and left faster than I could sing ‘don’t tell my heart, my achy-breaky heart.’ I just don’t think they understand.
For myself, however, as the token straight dude downing vodka sodas at a local drag show, their incredulousness was the highlight of the evening, but I’ll admit to being an exception. I’ve been too many different people and failed too many different places than to not simply kick-back and enjoy the ride of this damned human race’s many-splendored absurdities.
That’s all this life is. If you weld yourself to expectations of a shared objective reality, you’re going to spend most of it stumbling into places you’ll refuse to understand and then beating a swift retreat to safe spaces, where you will never be challenged and never learn anything new.
But if we manage to walk that line instead of dancing it? We get to be amazed by it all instead.
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