I Have Nothing More to Say

I have nothing more to say. I have no opinions whatsoever. Not about politics, not about education, not about the state of Lexington, not Kentucky, not the world at large.

Which, as you might imagine, makes it difficult to compose pieces for this web site at regular intervals.

It’s the pandemic what done it. Living alone, working from home, going days without seeing another person to speak to….it puts you in a state. As the body count rose, I began to think almost exclusively about death, and how quickly it comes for you. But also the corollary: what to do in the few moments we have left alive?

That question lodged in my mind, at around the same time I began to see nearly all human behavior as entirely performative. Not just constructed gender identities, per Butler, or any single aspect of the human condition, but all of it. Every word, every action, all in the service of a constructed identity, an artificial narrative: the identity I’ve assigned myself requires me to do/say/feel this, so that’s what I’ll do/say/feel. Or, I believe this, because that’s what a person like me believes.

And so when I see a politician or pundit on my TV screen, or when I read an editorial, or when I overhear people talking in the Kroger parking lot, it doesn’t seem real. It’s fiction. It’s a performance.

So take my old target Andy Barr, for example, who built an entire 60-second campaign ad around his wife’s still-warm corpse (I was only this past weekend informed he’d done this—I haven’t watched much TV in a long while). In the past I would have eviscerated him for his cynicism, but now, I only register that this is what the character of Andy Barr is doing now, in the story of Andy Barr. And because the character of Andy Barr is fictional, appearing only in an extended work of fiction written by a man named Andy Barr, then what? I’m supposed to engage or argue with him? It would be a bit like watching The Empire Strikes Back and proceeding to write a thousand-word editorial taking Lando Calrissian to task for having made a deal with the Empire. Like, it’s not real, man.

But if so much is fake, distasteful, and to be avoided, that at least points to a better way to live: genuine, authentic expression. Doing. Making. Creating. That’s the aim. No constructed identity, no narrative, no performance, no self-definition. I am no one, I know very little, and on the issues of the day I have nothing to say anymore. What few remaining years I have in front of me will not be occupied by arguing with fictional characters or criticizing their miserable policies. I leave that to other writers.

Of course the bright sparks out there will at this point raise an objection: wait a minute! Isn’t the very act of denying self-definition in itself an act of self-definition? Ha! Gotcha!

Yes it is. Help yourself to a cookie and say hi to everyone at the next meeting of the Junior Philosophy Club.

The other problem I’ve encountered of late is in the nature of argumentative discourse in its contemporary, 21st century form. I seem to recall a time when not every policy disagreement need be fought to the death; it was sufficient to merely state, “my position differs from yours, and I believe mine superior. Here are the reasons why.”

Now, though, it appears that even disagreements on the most mundane or trivial matters must end with total submission: “my position differs from yours, and I believe mine superior. Here are the reasons why, and also, you’re an absolute piece of shit for thinking the way you do. Only human garbage would ever hold a position such as yours. Go question everything about your life.”

Now, surely there are positions one might hold that beg for that sort of condemnation. A proponent of genocide, for instance, would be deserving of nothing but contempt. But this kind of discourse turns up everywhere:

“Jim, I think we should trim this year’s school field-trip budget to help offset the cost of some much-needed parking lot repairs.”

“How dare you think of destroying our children’s futures, you fiend! You disgust me, Sarah.”

Yeah. No more of that for me. I have to assume that for many people, encountering a contrary opinion somehow challenges their very sense of self: this isn’t part of my narrative, and therefore I must kill it. What fragile creatures we are.

But again, the problem with all of this is that I have no idea what I’m supposed to write about. “News and commentary” this site purports to offer. But I know no news, and therefore couldn’t possibly comment. So what, then?

I’m really asking here. If you’re reading this, and you have some ideas, please share them. Put them in the comments below, or email/tweet me. I haven’t written anything here in months, and I could use the help. I got no ideas.

I do have some leftover opinions, though, from the before. I’ll share those now, and then resume my silence. Remember, these aren’t fresh; they’ve been sitting around since April. May at the latest. Here goes:

• In-person versus online school instruction: in-person is gonna kill a lot of people, but the education will be all right. Hybrid in-person/online won’t kill as many people, but the education won’t be as good. Online-only will kill the fewest people, but the education will be crappy. Figure out how many people we should kill, and adjust your school schedule accordingly.
• Mitch McConnell versus Amy McGrath: McGrath, obviously, but it doesn’t really matter, because McConnell will win.
• Andy Barr versus Josh Hicks: Hicks, obviously, but it doesn’t really matter, because Barr and his wife’s ghost will win.
• Joe Biden versus the incumbent: Biden, obviously, but it doesn’t really matter, because you probably live in Kentucky. And anyway, I’m childless, I’m armed, and so screw it: let the world burn, if that’s what y’all want. Let’s get it on.

So that’s it for now. Have a comment? I don’t care. Your voice isn’t important to me. My voice isn’t important to me either.