Resurrect Yourself Before You Wreck Yourself
Don’t let today’s silly mistakes destroy you - there's always tomorrow's rewrite!
“Each day, we wake slightly altered, and the person we were yesterday is dead.”
– John Updike
The Resurrectors’ Oath
And so I go.
At the coming of the deadening hour of my yesterday person, I solemnly swear to prepare my cowering corpse for its kick-to-the-curb departure, adhering strictly to the sacred practices of the Bygones-be-Bygones Tenets, as laid out in the ancient Hall of Later, Gators.
And so I go.
Using the Holy Rag of Self-Forgiveness, I vow to dab gently at the skin of my yesterday’s missteps—of what I said or didn’t say, or what I dun did or didn’t dun do to (or for) the innocent others in my clueless periphery.
In doing this, I accept the farewell closing of my one-day-only personage window as I prepare for the arrival of this new and slightly altered tomorrow me, which I also acknowledge will live for twenty-four hours only.
And so I go.
With much love and adoration for my yesterday vessel, I promise to handle this self with dignity, touching softly at the scars of learning while deftly applying healing creams to the angry rashes of regret. I will note the things I noted then that I vow to not note now, knowing it will be fixed in the edit or the rewrite of my future tomorrow character. Antagonist or protagonist.
And so I go.
Humming peacefully, I will sew the pitiful grievances and inexplicable self-loathings into the eyelids of this yesterday me to be buried deep beneath the shame shell of my earth. With pliant acceptance, I will urge the very crust of my guilt to split wide open and for my wounds of recent times to be processed by holy forgiveness maggots. May they extract my rampant emotional poisons with their insatiable appetites.
And so I go.
As my future tomorrow selves have done before and will do again, I will stand at the grave of my yesterday me and with supreme reverence bow my head, muttering the start of a eulogy my yesterday person was supposed to write but didn’t because me-not-me anymore was procrastinating.
I will add that to the list of Forgives and Forgets and throw a little talc on the past version of me who is dying to be me again but to look and feel a little bit different each time around. Dying today so that I may become a yesterday and go on to a tomorrow, which will be *ahem* even better than today. Incrementally.
And so, I go.
At the dimming of my past life’s bulb, I will press play on my departed self’s carefully curated funereal playlist—top-to-bottom bygone bangers. A Greatest Hits list of unpaid bill realizations, budgetary woes, forgotten appointments, misplaced love, just plain wrong arguments, burnt toast swearings, mirror musings, and stubbed-toed screams. With ancestral purpose, I will tap my foot to a tune only my yesterday self will remember. A billion streams, y’all.
Earthworms shall rise to the surface of yesterday’s song to gorge themselves upon my past failings and shit out the sadness. A new cast for the new me.
And so I go.
Trust in me that I shall bury thee, and bury thee deeply. There will be no hauntings here. No apparitions of my coulda-shoulda-wouldas, and didn’t dos. No spectral visions of self-hate or inaction of the body on my couch of meh.
With hand outstretched I will let myself pass to the next realm, scattering dirt upon the casket of my yesterday as I chant a prayer for this dying and a song for this living. I will seed the lawn of my future. Tomorrow’s me shall grow and sprout and provide soft footfalls for today’s dreams. No prickles. No burrs. No splinters.
And so I go.
I will go with honor, I will shed no tears, nor wear no mourning coat with missing buttons. I will simply, earnestly, willingly lay that past disaster me to rest. With my heart dinged and with altered construction of my thoughts and deeds and mind, I swear to always be a clean-slate, new-day dawner.
I believe I am a constant thing, a living fading decaying resurrecting thing, preparing for the lessons of today so that I may die again for a better me, tomorrow.
And so I go. Am gone. Goodbye.
This is my vow, my pledge, my new-day-boulder-roll oath.
Today is today.
Hello, Me.
Yours in tiny thought,
Janeen
This week’s amends…
The quote at the start of today’s post is from this:
“Not only are selves conditional but they die. Each day, we wake slightly altered, and the person we were yesterday is dead. So why, one could say, be afraid of death, when death comes all the time? It is even possible to dislike our old selves, those disposable ancestors of ours. For instance, my high-school self—skinny, scabby, giggly, gabby, frantic to be noticed, tormented enough to be a tormentor, relentlessly pushing his cartoons and posters and noisy jokes and pseudo-sophisticated poems upon the helpless high school—strikes me now as considerably obnoxious, though I owe him a lot: without his frantic ambition and insecurity I would not be sitting on (as my present home was named by others) Haven Hill.”
― John Updike, from his Self-Consciousness memoirs
Via the Marginalian, “John Updike on Writing and Death”
On Rotation: “Villon Song” by Stick in the Wheel
One of those “What is this?” songs that pop into your Spotify Discover Weekly from time to time, as this one did on mine the week of March 6th. It’s “based on a cant song translated into London slang by W.WE. Henley: Villon’s Straight Tip to All Cross Coves.”
This post elaborates on the story:
Straight Tip To All Cross Coves was written in 1884 by William Ernest Henley in the underworld slang of the day. It's a re-write of a poem originally written by a 15th century thief, murderer and poet, Francois Villon. He wrote verse about French gangsta life while waiting out his various prison sentences.
The Stick in the Wheel issue was released in 2020. Late to the party again, Janeen!
They’re re-releasing Jonathan Demme’s “Stop Making Sense”, one of my favorite concert films. The little promo with David Byrne and his big suit is lovely. The film is getting a 4K restoration and will be released in theaters later this year.
Via Kottke
Enjoyed this reel by Fingerhustler. Lots more here.