believe me good will come

Like every other human being on this planet, I am stressed beyond belief. This stress manifests itself in the pain that darts across my forehead and down my neck…or is it a sign of aging? What do you care? You’re probably in your late teens or early twenties, you’re gorgeous and indestructible…well, enjoy it, kid. It doesn’t last, especially the way you’re carrying on. How much sleep have you had recently? How much coffee? And what the hell were you popping down your throat or sucking into your lungs in the weekend? Oh, of course. You were having fun. Relieving stress. Your liver thanks you.

It’s amazing how many ways humans have to deal with pain and stress that involve sensory obliteration. Why go to all the trouble of chemically heightening or depressing your senses when you rarely use them properly in daily life anyway? No one stops to smell the flowers any more (that’s a metaphor, pedants). We are sensate beings. To pause, and flood our senses, and through this relish the experience of being alive, is never a waste of time.

Look at stuff. If you can’t appreciate the physical beauty of the world then you might as well be dead. Look at objects in the street you’ve passed a hundred times without even a glance. Read graffiti. Examine the iridescent beauty of the cicada on the pavement, and be thankful you don’t have to make noises like that to get laid. Look at colours. Wear less black. Look at the buildings you walk past and imagine how proud the architect was when it ceased merely existing in their head and took on physical form. Look old buildings and wonder what the original inhabitants were like, and what their dreams were. Look at people - but don’t stare. Humans are the only creatures who find any sign of sexual attraction offensive, and looking at people is of course wrong and naughty because it -gasp! objectifies them! Sometimes, as Darwin has pointed out, this is inevitable.

Sleep. People say snoozers are losers - in fact, I think our economy is based around the principle - but the world of your dreams is the only space you own completely. Own your tastebuds. There’s nothing wrong with comfort eating. Don’t gorge, just taste. Small, sweet, sharp sensations which send little electric messages to your brain: You’re alive. We listen too much - or rather, we hear too much. The streets are noisy and the shops awash with tunes designed to modify our behaviour. We are surrounded by electronic boxes which blare light and noise at us and force us act like them. They are not our friends. Turn them off and seek out silence. It can sometimes be alarming to hear your brain working.

New Zealanders are not tactile people. Touch your friends! Check with them first, of course. I don’t get hugged enough - or as much as I’d like, rather - because I am unpleasantly pointy. There is nothing wrong with hugging the pointy people. If you have a lover, touch their face. Look into their eyes and realise how lucky you are. If you don’t have a lover, and you want one, do something about it.

It might be a pretty miserable year for a lot of us. Frankly, summer sucked ass. We could all do with a some vitamin E, and it starts getting colder and darker as of now. Things are still grim internationally, as though the entire world is suffering from a seasonal affective disorder. It may seem selfish to spend more time concentrating on the minutiae of life, even obscene, to enjoy cool breezes on our faces as people hack each other to bits for the sake of ideology - but, without trivialising current events, all problems cease to be important over time. The issues and people of today merge into the wallpaper of history. Eventually you will forget the worst thing that is happening to you right now. In sixty years you will sit with the memories of a sensation you may have felt yesterday - the shape of your friend’s smile, the pink edges of a cloud, the glisten and patter of a drinking fountain. These are not profound or epiphinal moments. But they are proof that you have lived. That you are, indeed, alive.