Better Lies

I spent the morning talking on Skype to my friend Paul who is living in Japan. We are the same age, and like me he is undergoing a major life crisis, though one of a very different nature. We have known each other since high school and it is good to bounce things off him. Especially since leaving Weber, he is the only real friend I have right now, the only person I can talk to about my situation. In any case, and as always talking to him gives me hope. I almost never hang up on him without feeling better. When I think of why, it is because despite the nature of his situation, which is pretty dire, he always ends up, sometimes despite himself, being optimistic. There is always a scheme that is going to change things (the business he is tangentially attached to will take him on full time and strike it big) or some unlikely dream will be fulfilled (he will move to Hollywood and be a screenwriter). Doubtless these are highly improbable. But what is wrong with a dream, regardless of how delusional, that keeps you going? I remember way back when in graduate school I knew a starving artist, one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met, who told me that we don’t need more truth, we need better lies. Exactly. And I recall when my sister was dying of pancreatic cancer, she just never accepted that fact despite its obviousness and undesirability. And so one might say she never achieved the acceptance they talk about in stages of dying. BUT SO WHAT?!! It’s not like you win a prize for going through all the five stages. So she was stuck in denial. Big deal. I would argue that she was no worse off than someone who goes through all the five stages. ..I am reminded of the scene at the end of Butch Cassidy, where Butch and Sundance are surrounded by fedarales and obviously going to be killed. After an initial round of gunfire have filled them with multiple wounds, they crawl back to regroup. It’s clear to anyone that they are going to die. But Butch starts talking about going to Austrailia after they get out of this mess, and slowly convinces Sundance of the plausibility of the scheme, and they start to make plans. And then they are gunned down in a massive volley. But you know, so what. There is something I admire about the dream of Australia. I guess I would say it caused them to face their final moment with hope rather than despair, and what more can we ask. I recall a line someone said about Whitman, that a lot of people went to their death easier because of his poetry. And so I would finish with the observation that it seems to me we are all just Butch and Sundance waiting to get slaughtered. So why not dream of Australia. So Paul and I talk into the night and contrive our implausible schemes.