William wants to control everything from right here.

"I want to control everything from right here."

"You mean these calories?"

"No."

"You were looking at your plate."

"I wasn't."

"OK."

"I'm doing so much. I'm holding so many things together."

"What?"

"I'm working my life."

"Doesn't that make sense?"

"What?"

"You act as if....I don't know..."

"I'm supposed to work it."

"Yeah."

"Is there anything wrong with trying to figure out what the hell is going on? Or how I can get it right?"

"Get what right?"

"This life. How can I make it work."

"It's working. You have a roof over your head....you have almost all of your teeth."

"It's not working. Don't for one moment think this life is working, there is anguish in people's lives. There is pain. There is tons of uncertainty."

"I can guess that."

"I feel like it's only working because I have to work it."

"That's the point."

"It's a working that's grimy, bemired. You know? It's a working that just pays the interest, never the principle. A totally useless kind of living."

"You act as if there is a plan B. Well I guess you could go live on a mountain and count birds."

"That's not a plan B. That's more of the same if I'm not attracted to it. I'm attracted to being here."

"With me today."

"Right. I have to figure it out here."

"Figure what out?"

"Have you been listening? You don't have to do anything but sit there and wait for your warm glass of milk. I'm talking about me. This isn't enough. Paying the interest, paying with malaise. I want to control things from the already. From right here I'm not working. From here I control the results. I'm driving."

"You are insane."

"Yeah, but do you know for sure that you're not."

"Maybe, but least I got more friends."

William wants to say something from a better place.

"She needs projection as comfort."

"What?"

"She needs you to complain, interrogate. She needs you to be more than irritated for her to feel at home."

"I don't think that's the case."

"It's the case. Being contemplative, accountable about your thoughts is just not right for her. She needs a left hook with words as if it was her favorite blanket that she curled up on the couch with."

"You can't be serious."

"I can be."

"OK."

"It doubles for compassion. It is like touch. It is how people see."

"See what?"

"Well it allows people to get from one moment to next. It can be a tiny comfort till they get to the next painful moment."

"What do you think?"

"I don't want to throw a fucked up life preserver. I want to hold my assault. I want to wait till I make sense."

"This will piss people off."

"What?"

"That quiet."

"I want to wait till I am inspired to be more compassionate in thought. What I say has to come from a better place."

"Is it that easy?"

"No. It's easier to throw out the fucked up life preserver. The one with holes in it. The one that floats you off towards the next fucked up situation."

"OK."

"I just want what I have to say to come from a better place."

William is looking for the hard way out.

"I figure that trying to put it together is the problem."

"What?"

"Putting it all together."

"Putting what together?"

"That thing."

"What?"

"These pieces do not go together. Least they don't go together perfectly--nowhere near perfect, matter of fact. They finally fit together like round pegs in square holes and then it somehow works without your help at all."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well our job is to stay out of the way. That is doing something, now that I think about it."

"What?"

"I'm talking about what goes on in our life. It seems to be floating all around me, like huge pieces of a puzzles that seem to automatically get me involved in trying to piece them together."

"Makes sense."

"You know what's interesting? The pieces all fit. They all join, but that's the fucking problem, they are not suppose to. Chaos is really what's there, and needs to be navigated by you not trying to piece it together. Your effort fucks it up."

"That makes sense."

"It does?"

"No."

"I feel set up when I go back in there and try working a so called problem in my day. I do my thing of thinking about something, sizing up the problem and reaching a resolution that will allow me to be comfortable for a few hours until something else bothers me, or that puzzle comes undone. The pieces of my life that fit together is smoke and mirrors. It's a fucking joke. Don't you understand?"

"Huh?"

"When it really works the pieces of my life will come together in a way that looks incongruent to the naked eye. Outsiders will not be able to see how that is going to come together, and will file you away as an idiot. They will have no choice but to think your methods are insane. They will see that what makes sense to the naked eye fits, and will even try to fit it together themselves, because people love easy puzzles."

"What is my method?"

"Your method is to not do anything right away. The doing something is the problem. You will see pieces that work perfectly together and you shouldn't do a damn thing. You should sit on your hands. As you wait beyond the so called easy answers that appears; the ones people will scream you take. The real answers will begin to materialized if you wait. They will be ushered by your gut feeling. They will be undeniable. Your method is to try this next thing."

"You're always looking for the hard way out."

"It eventually becomes the easy way."

Lanvin trusts joy.

"I trust joy."

"Ok."

"While most people just like staying on the ground."

"Should I even ask?"

"God, it is so much easier. Just afraid of getting up in the air."

"What do you mean?"

"We like being racked. We like being really really close to suffering so we don't have far to go as we roll out the appointment book of our day. No need to fall in shit when we are in it. Joy is what we are really so uncomfortable with. It is where anxiety gets all over our ass. We are paranoid. A luxury of the spirit makes us increasingly nervous."

"Life is suffering I heard somewhere."

"Life is purging. It is cleansing"

"I need to take a bath."

"Staying in the air is tough. Staying there, in things that are going very right and not feeling guilty is tough"

"What?"

"I know, right? But jubilance is the enemy--you see. It is what can keep you up at night. It is unknown and unpredictable. Joy wrecks us, because we feel ill prepared and undeserving, but the craziest thing is, there are many more moments of it than suffering. The only reason there appears to be more pain is because of our continued resistance to joyful moments."

"So you say I like the ground"

"You like the ground. You hug it. I hug it at times. We don't have too far to fall, things could be worse, but we are always close to it"

"Maybe so"

"Peace and joy is much more common though."

"Ha."

"It is."

"Ok."

"You don't believe me?"

"I just like that you believe it."

"I just trust Joy."

Nicholas isn't just looking cute.

"You have to get your hands dirty."

"What?"

"You have to get your hands dirty when it comes to life. You have to get down in there. You have to stop looking cute."

"What?"

"You can't sunglass your way. You can't sarcast your way through life. You can't hide."

"Sarcast?"

"Or witty your way."

"What?"

"You have to participate. You have to show up. I mean...this is what I discovered."

"Huh?"

"I'm just saying."