🏔️🏔️Beyond the Red Room, Tape #21: Goodbye Mr Lynch, I’ll See You in 25 Years

Dear Diane, it’s 536am on January 17, the day after David Lynch passed into the White Lodge. It’s dark. I can’t sleep. Not because I’m sad, because I’m restless. It seems I don’t have time for grief anymore. Which makes sense. Until August 10 2024 I spent the majority of my life on a spectrum of sorrow — mild to ideations of ending things. I lived with one foot in the grave. I don’t have time for death anymore, or long mourning. I’ve lost so many years in the Black Lodge, to way too many BOBs, Lelands, Bobbys. Suffering. I won’t succumb to depression’s seduction. I lived in that parallel dimension for decades, no going back.
Because Diane, even on the day that one of my heroes passed into stardust, many wonderful things happened. I didn’t leave my house and I had six pieces of artwork accepted into an exhibit at a chocolate shop in Oakland. I had more library book talk offers; I’ll be getting paid to watch Keanu movies and discuss them. Another book store is helping me organize a drag performance, where Queens will read from Much Ado About Keanu. People I’ve never met are connecting me with others who are thrilled at the fact me and my book exist at all. Even when housebound in the Bae Area incredible things happen to me.
How could I spend any of these precious moments wallowing? I am not. I am supposed to live. I am supposed to breathe in inspiration and breathe out art.
Diane, I used to be so afraid of being alone. I would stay in situations that were killing me, people who were dismantling me from the inside out. It felt safer than being on my own. Now that the shackles are off, I see I am self-contained in the most glorious ways.
I’ll be honest with you, Diane, I never thought I had this power. Now that it’s awake, it’s easy to know what to do. I will not let sadness over Mr Lynch’s passing knock me off. I will add him to the list of people whose lives I honor by succeeding. They have no use for my tears. They want my joy. And I’ll dedicate my smile to them.
It’s 5:55, Diane. I’m closing my eyes to dream of future wonders. That’s where I’ll finally meet Mr Lynch in person.
[For the rest of my Beyond the Red Room “tapes” visit 25 Years Later.]

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