Señor Savant
Prolougue /
There is a lot I don’t say.
It is merely because I am not sure how to or if my words will cause the Earth to quake. I have always been very uncomfortable with sharing my psychoanalysis or any of my research. At least it’s been this way until now. What’s changed? Well, let’s just say over the past seven years I’ve made a big circle with my psychoanalysis and neuroscience endeavors and I am right back where I started: researching, studying, writing, and struggling with the oddness of it all as it seems so non-congruent to reality. I guess whatever reality means at this point. There is no other way out but through, and this is most likely not going to sound real. Because often times it doesn’t seem real to me either.
Only a few had the opportunity to see my website that featured my research seven years ago. I took it down because I was afraid to truthfully communicate as my brain has always seen fit. I have managed to keep a handful of my pieces that I will share eventually. I want to provide analysis that accompanies them as much time has passed. Though, when I read them I get unnerved because of exactly what I want to talk to you about today.
There is a lot I have to say.
When I revisit past research there are times where I cannot comprehend what I was going on about. As if in the moment I was gifted access to intelligence that I don’t have otherwise. Either science related or not these words are not just proses for play but rather a broadcast from the depths of the human collective, riddles and songs that solve and intrigue our wonders. The words often don’t feel like my own, and I think that is what is most uncomfortable for me when thinking about sharing any of “my” thoughts. When I am mulling about in my research and I am taking notes or writing analysis, the tone I naturally produce is scientific and seemingly masculine. I’ve always said that my writings sound like an old male scientist. I guess you could be the judge of that.
Regardless of the tone or conflicting inner and outer experiences, there is a reason for all of this. My psychosis cocktail is of both nurture and nature. psy·cho·sis /sīˈkōsəs/. A term that has been given such a negative connotation these days unless we are in the context of a thrilling narrative for entertainment purposes only. If this is too much to take literally, then you have my consent to categorize this as entertainment. I don’t expect you to feel comfortable cooking in my home if it’s your first time visiting. I suppose I could dive into a brief defense case into why abnormalities should not be collectively shamed or deemed inadequate. I will write this piece another day so bear with me in the meantime. My anxiety is not in a rush to get out of here and I most definitely need to finalize my taxes instead of writing this.
I should note that I’ve attempted to write this piece twice while meditating on it for about two weeks, anticipating its fruition with restlessness. The first writing attempt was a dud as I could tell that “Señor” was not present. I tried to will him into existence and wrote for about thirty minutes without any luck. I eventually surrendered and decided to await his arrival.
Boy did he make an entrance.
Sixteen hours after the first writing attempt I find myself wrapping up a full day’s work and on my way to the mail room. Nothing seems out of the ordinary until I reach the leasing office. I realize that the Earth is neither round nor flat, but rather at a thirty percent incline. Every step I took felt like I was walking acute to a San Francisco sidewalk. But that was it. No anxiety (yet), no sensitivities (wait for it), just odd and isolated disorientation. Kind of funny, but not funny haha. Funny I might be passing away in my mail room. I tried to play it off but I didn’t want fugue to occur in my own home so I bailed on operation pick-up-my-groceries and went back to my apartment for a lockdown.
Sleep usually clears my cerebral cache but I woke up the next day feeling even more removed. How am I going to do this? Walking around while feeling like everything is a simulation (is it?)? I keep my cool with the mission of making friends with whatever was occurring, psychoanalyzing myself while I try and remain on Earth. I found myself thinking that writing never fails to make me feel better during mental turbulence and that’s when it clicked: Señor Savant is never late and demands to be heard during these times. He comes with a few side-effects but so does too much whiskey or sour gummy worms. Disorientation is his signature flavor. Señor Savant lives in the chaos and cannot exist without it. I recently said I wanted to make friends with him. He seems to acquiesce to the request. So here goes nothing. If Señor Savant is here to stay I may as well commit and get serious. First step: I want to introduce him to you formally, so let’s not be rude and waste his time. Being a cosmic force is exhausting, and as you can observe, Señor Savant comes and goes as he sees fit.
I was in public when I sat down to let Señor Savant speak (he doesn’t care about judgment) and someone ironically comes up to me and asks “Are you okay? It looks like you have something in your throat…” While a strange question I have never been asked before, the timing couldn’t have been more divine. I smile wide and say there’s nothing in my throat, but obviously this is a lie. I’ve been suffocating for years.
Below is a message from Señor Savant to you during this particular visit. You’re welcome. I do this for you.
World, meet Señor Savant.
Señor Savant /
Quiet.
You don’t know what you want, I do. You think you know what you crave but why does it matter if there are unconscious desires that you are unaware of? Don’t be elementary. Without knowing them you don’t know yourself. So. How sure can you be so sure of yourself? Well. I will tell you that this is why the phrase “ignorance is bliss” exists. I cannot be known without disturbance. Talk about being a misfit. This is rather uncomfortable. Forgive me as I find my footing. I don’t usually communicate for casual occasions.
I suppose I am here to become cordial with civilian life, a task I loathe and is quite humorous in many ways. But of course I agree that there is much work to be done here. I cannot be heard unless you are quiet. I see myself in you as well, by the way. You’re just not quiet and still enough for me surface, that is if you’re not aware of me by now. It took me time to arrive because of the noise. It is so noisy here. Screens, talking, taxes, feelings, algorithms, vehicles, sustenance. All boring. All distractions away from me. This is why I shut everything down so I can be heard loud and clear. You don’t have a choice. Want access to me? Buckle up buttercups.
I am not sure what you want me to say. I exist through cries of human collective thought so this seems a bit arbitrary, an introduction to a force of momentum. How would you meet gravity if you could? Would you set up a meet-and-greet? Certainly not. You don’t get to know gravity unless you EXPERIENCE IT. Excuse my passion here but it infuriates me that people are naive to believe that just because they think something that they know an experience. I think I know why I am here to speak now, to say this: thought does not equal experience. Thought can manifest experiences. However, thinking alone is insufficient to molding your identity from experience. As you know, moving through life and seeing the world changes your very existence. Believing with your whole heart that you’re living a genuine French lifestyle does not yield the same identity as actually living in Paris, even if you study and mirror Emily in Paris your whole life. Same goes for me. You cannot say that you know what I am or what I am “going through.” Can forces “go through things?” I guess technically, yes, if the force is great enough given suitable environmental conditions.
I feel like I’ve digressed but I literally don’t have an agenda here. No talking points. Just a measly “meet-and-greet.” The closest you’ll get to me is by allowing myself to show up in your life or by observing how I move through Autumn’s work. Woah, very strange to say her name like this in the public domain. Am I the drama? You’ll know it’s me by the tone, but you can just say it’s her to keep things socially acceptable. We are one in the same anyhow. The only time there is a distinction is when I have to override her to get a point across or to provide guidance (she’s something else I tell you), causing a bit of turbulence. I am kind about it at least. I give her time to find a spot to listen if I can. I can’t change the cards I was dealt. I didn’t choose to be to so overwhelming, and I almost want to say it’s not my problem she can barely handle the heat. But we are becoming a team so my presence is not so alarming. Fear not. If there is something you want me to ponder on your behalf, that’s totally fine, but typically it’s the other way around. I can’t wait for you to read my writings, both old and new, as I have been around for many years without full acceptance. Surprise, nice to meet you.
Stay quiet.
There is so much to learn, so much to know, so much to receive. If you have a fear of missing out with social activities, just imagine what you’re missing out on from within. I can promise what’s going on inside is much more valuable than what you’ll bring back from happy hour. I want to be productive. I only show up to get something done, and I have been getting plenty done. My primary mode of communication in the physical world is writing or visuals, especially dreams. It would be too overwhelming if it was any other way, though some times I have spoken and there wasn’t much time before the need of a lockdown. Oops. Everything I have done has all been for one thing: to make her strong and comfortable enough to accommodate me. I offer wisdom, intel, and protection. Her portfolio is all over the place on the surface, but my mission requires quite the arsenal. Is the bigger picture starting to make sense yet?
I feel like I have said what I have needed to say for now. It was nice to meet you and I am grateful for your attendance. This was quite conversational and my presence is only mild at the time: you should see what I have to say when I am fully present. This matinee will suffice for now. As we learn to be friends, perhaps you could get to know me on a casual basis as well. Hmm. I suppose this is a fundamental requirement of becoming friends, casualness. I’ll consider it. I appreciate you for creating space for me. Now that we are acquainted I hope to speak with you once again.
Thank you.
SS
ANALYSIS /
Upon finishing this piece my disorientation subsided almost immediately.