When you go home and live with your parents, things often come from over your shoulder. You are once again at the mercy or in the blessing of your parent's cooking. There is a necessary responsibility of cleanliness. Your parents will come in contact with your crumbs and bodily debris. You cannot keep entirely separate or entirely to yourself. The shape and look of the place is not your own. However the stigma of living at home, treats parents as if they are a phase we all go through, not people with emotions and desires and lives in any way worthwhile, or worth talking about.
I've started reading the diary of the incredible Anaïs Nin, and one relationship in it has really struck a chord. Not with Henry Miller, who provides a loving enigma and companion for her (and was one of my earliest profound writing influences) but his wife, June. Henry describes June like a sphinx, beautiful, brutal and unknowable, but in the friendship of Anaïs she transforms into something separate from Henry's understanding of her. There are more passionate and impressive passages regarding their emotional friendship, but one quote sticks in my mind.
"June sat filled with champagne. I have no need of it. She talked about the effects of hashish. I said, 'I have known such states without hashish. I do not need drugs. I carry all that in myself.' At this she was irritated. She does not realize that, being an artist, I want to be in those states of ecstasy or vision while keeping my awareness in tact. I am the poet and I must feel and see. I do not want to be anesthetized. I am drunk on June’s beauty, but I am also aware of it."
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