Welcome to The Knives' Journal!
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Ari: March 31 2023
On Checking In (Friendship Routines)
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A phone call with a friend to discuss his recent interpersonal controversies left me wondering: What makes a healthy friendship? I've been advisied to cut ties with this friend in case he's not safe; it's been commented by former close friends that he's not safe; there are times I've admitted to feeling unsafe because of him yet I've stayed. Was that a poor decision?
I don't think he's a bad person. I think, at his core, he is truly attempting to help and care for his friends; I know I am cared about on a deeply personal level. However, I can admit he has shown a pattern of making bad decisions. I am afraid my optimism is blinding me. At some point, I believe, mistakes stop becoming actions and start morphing to one's personality in a way that I cannot look the other way for. I do not like to think I am looking the other way about the harm he's done currently, but it's a balance between understanding others are mature enough to understand and respect my decisions of choosing to stay -- to attempt conflict resolution instead of wordlessly abandoning him -- and fighting for a calmer, more equitable future.
Love, in all forms, is initially a choice. I still have love for this friend. The conflict arises when I try to decipher if he deserves it. If I'm willing to continue guarding a piece of my heart for him. I am not scared of hurting his feelings by leaving. I think, however, I am terrified of my own.
Shit, being known is truly motifying at times... Am I scared of being alone again?
Ari: Jan 11 2023
Lore
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I
Obedient sons are soldiers. Like guns waiting to be shot.
Never quite measure up to the type of man he wants,
Cars, baseball, fighting and collecting women;
You learned nothing about fixing broken homes.
A baseball through the front window so you won’t become a mirror
He beat you enough to break you more than you will ever admit.
Blunt little instrument even though you are much taller than him
The type of man he wants is his father’s son.
Trigger. Scream.
Keep pressure on it:
You’re not a child anymore;
This conversation does not require getting emotional;
A real man knows how to control his women.
Trigger. Pull.
Have you ever had an original thought?
We all fight our own private wars; you are dishonorably discharged.
Obedient sons are soldiers, like guns, waiting to be shot.
II
Along the watchtower, we walk on pins: running from lights, wary of life –
Remember what happened last time?
Ice on the red river and whiskey on the rocks
Sharpens your blade, my wit, his fear, our lies.
Time my field strip. Arson the village too, leaving ruins ahead
Oxford, Ulm, and Fate; Eldorado and Slaughters
There’s nowhere to hide from the ghosts in my mind so I’ll
Live a haunted life —lock up, lookout, loaded gun— with the inescapable truths
Everyone liked you.
III
We all fight our own private wars but we all need someone in our corner:
I see now
my dad is right, I am a protector.
Very wrong about how, though.
The knives he gave remain by my side, but they cut tags from scratchy sweaters or section apples or fish out the fallen earring from couch crevices.
They are not trophies of his torment.
They’ve become something beautiful. I’m learning to be proud.
I want to be kind. I wanted to be loved.
Look dad, I’m alive.
Are you proud of me?
(I hope not.)
I may not be able to change the world but I can do something
so
I’m going to be softer and superior in all the ways.
I’m going to outdo him; not as a father myself but
I’ll be the man my father never was
I’ll live my life, even if it kills me…
I’ll continue to live despite it all.
IV
Sure, dad, you’re a frequent victor in battles.
But you’re no soldier; you have never fought in a war.
Braver than I, perhaps?
No. Parenting is not a job for a child.
You say you deserve his respect because you’re his father – that science entitles you to his love.
I bite my tongue because
I don’t know how to tell you
You were my father too.
Please don’t lean on me; I’m too broken to fix you too.
I hope you miss me, sometimes.
Brother, breathe:
We are the paradox – brought them together and ripped them apart – but this is not (y)our fault.
Our masculinity is different, not less.
You are not your father;
I hope I never will be mine.
Ari: Jan 3 2023
On Home
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Home is movement because you always have your guard up. The ideal home is, simultaneously, beyond the feeling of safe – remember that you are far too comfortable in turmoil you do not deserve – and is, instead, the trust of knowing you are safe and respected and loved. Humans are social creatures. The ideal home – the home you deserve – is somewhere you are told you’re allowed to exist and they truly mean to support that endeavor.
You can build a home with other people, but guard your self; do not make your home in another. At the end of it all, you are the only person you must live with the rest of your life.
Snippets of conversations on brotherhood and feeling safe:
- Safe, like so many things in our non-polar universe, is both objective and subjective
- Brotherhood is subjective safe, I think. Having that level of communication and commitment has always been noteworthy to me, because it's not something I've expected to deserve.
- It's fairly easy for me to feel safe or self-confident because I am far too comfortable with turmoil I allegedly dont deserve, but actually being safe is rare, ya know?
- Love, I've learned, is a commitment and choice with critical thinking. I'm not blindly on your side, I never will be, but I can still love you without supporting the hurt you've caused. And I do.
Ari: Jan 2 2023
Should you journal as if it will be read?
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Yes and no. These journals will likely be read, but likely never by anyone else physical. It is impossible to know what the future version of yourself would have preferred in terms of context or content, therefore you shouldn’t concern yourself now with writing to an audience. Write about now, to no one else but the present version of yourself. It can be debated that Future Ari isn’t the same as present Ari, but that’s a pondering neither here nor there. You have a future; there is time to figure everything out.
The only audience is us, bud. This is intended as a space, mayhaps the only space in your life, where you can truly be honest with yourself. Use this knowledge to your advantage.
This isn’t a diary, but it also isn’t wholly an art journal. Remember that these chapters are life journals. Live your life, first and foremost. The memories, noteworthy and mundane, can be interpreted at another time.