We Were Overdue
Sep. 12th, 2023 09:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jakebeA friend and I were talking about something entirely unrelated when he brought up Bo Burnham (it turns out we're both fans). Unbidden, a flood of emotions and memories from his last Netflix special ("Inside") came rushing in. Bo Burnham is a musical comedian who got his start on Vine and YouTube, parlayed that into a very good stand-up career and, eventually, acting and directing. He made a short-lived MTV show called "Zach Stone is Gonna Be Famous" that feels weirdly predictive of the way influencers have taken over social media AND what that quest for fame does to you and the "normal" people you love. He also has crippling anxiety and has talked at length about how stressful it is for him to perform in front of people.
Apparently he had gotten to a place where he felt he could tour again, but then the pandemic happened so he made "Inside" instead. And at first, it's vintage Bo Burnham. "White Woman's Instagram" is a great song that lampoons cliche Instagram feeds while also reminding us that even the most vapid online presences are real people with deep emotions. And between songs, he talks about his process for creating the special in like, video-diary segments. After a little while though, it gets...intense. His usually pointed and acerbic gallows humor curdles into dark, fearful, and maudlin. This song, in particular, hits me like a freight train:
It's a hell of a special and I highly recommend it. Just gird your loins. :)
One of the lyrics proved to be a bit self-predictive. After Googling "derealization", it makes me wonder if it's something I've done and am doing. There are moments where my surroundings don't feel quite "real", like they're in this other layer of reality that I'm only partially interacting with. And there are many times where I just don't "exist" within my surroundings at all, but entirely within my own head. Maybe that's more "depersonalization" than anything.
Anyway, coming out at the tail end of the lockdown really helped crystalize this traumatic experience we had all been through in a way that allowed me to begin to come to terms with it -- how it's changed me, the long-buried wounds it's uncovered, and how I've been struggling to deal with all of it. And that's one of the best things about art, being able to feel like you're not alone and that some very bright, funny, insightful people struggle with the same things you do. The special made me want to give Bo Burnham a huge hug and check in on him to see if he's OK.
But since I can't do that, I can at least look in on my friends and family who are also going through a difficult time. Almost everyone we meet exists in a private hell that, for whatever reason, they're keeping to themselves. Being more mindful of that -- and making it a priority to ease their suffering however I can -- feels a bit closer to the person I want to be.
Apparently he had gotten to a place where he felt he could tour again, but then the pandemic happened so he made "Inside" instead. And at first, it's vintage Bo Burnham. "White Woman's Instagram" is a great song that lampoons cliche Instagram feeds while also reminding us that even the most vapid online presences are real people with deep emotions. And between songs, he talks about his process for creating the special in like, video-diary segments. After a little while though, it gets...intense. His usually pointed and acerbic gallows humor curdles into dark, fearful, and maudlin. This song, in particular, hits me like a freight train:
It's a hell of a special and I highly recommend it. Just gird your loins. :)
One of the lyrics proved to be a bit self-predictive. After Googling "derealization", it makes me wonder if it's something I've done and am doing. There are moments where my surroundings don't feel quite "real", like they're in this other layer of reality that I'm only partially interacting with. And there are many times where I just don't "exist" within my surroundings at all, but entirely within my own head. Maybe that's more "depersonalization" than anything.
Anyway, coming out at the tail end of the lockdown really helped crystalize this traumatic experience we had all been through in a way that allowed me to begin to come to terms with it -- how it's changed me, the long-buried wounds it's uncovered, and how I've been struggling to deal with all of it. And that's one of the best things about art, being able to feel like you're not alone and that some very bright, funny, insightful people struggle with the same things you do. The special made me want to give Bo Burnham a huge hug and check in on him to see if he's OK.
But since I can't do that, I can at least look in on my friends and family who are also going through a difficult time. Almost everyone we meet exists in a private hell that, for whatever reason, they're keeping to themselves. Being more mindful of that -- and making it a priority to ease their suffering however I can -- feels a bit closer to the person I want to be.
