Tag Archives: Writings

“In The Beginning Was Fear” – By Daniele Bolelli

In the beginning was fear—the fear that everything that has a body experiences once it realizes we live in a predatory universe; a universe in which absolutely everything gets to be eaten… if not by the sharp fangs of a predator, then by time itself. And Fear became our God. And it began to rule over our lives, shrink our willingness to dare, and rob us of the beauty of it all.

Fear is written in the deepest layer of our DNA. You can’t run away from it. You can’t escape it. It’s so pervasive that plenty of people try to exorcise the demon. Religions, philosophies, advertisements, motivational speakers… They all tell you if you make the jump and follow their cure, you’ll no longer have anything to fear. They tell you that there are no monsters hiding under your bed. They promise you safety from everything you fear. They promise you a sense of empowerment. They promise you victory against all odds.

The reality is that they are trying to sell you something.

The monster is indeed under your bed, after all. The reality is that you have every good reason to be afraid, because everything you fear is on your tracks right now, and will eventually catch up to you and destroy everything you loved and everything you are.

Welcome to the world, motherfuckers.

So, why “not afraid?” Wouldn’t it be more appropriate “Scared shitless and rightfully so?”

Because being scared doesn’t help you. Reality is uglier and harsher than anything we like to admit to ourselves, and yet it’s pointless to be scared since your fear will not protect you. Fear is only useful if it alerts you of a danger you can avoid, but if there’s no possible way to avoid it, if it’s inevitable that it’ll crush you no matter how hard you fight, then what’s the point of being afraid? If you have no hope of survival, what’s left to be afraid of?

The only thing you’ll succeed in doing is in spoiling this very second when the forces that will destroy you haven’t stepped onto the stage yet.

Yes, you will not get out of here alive. But so what? All the more reason to celebrate right here and right now. Let’s pop the champagne before all hell breaks loose. Squeeze every last ounce of orgasmic ecstasy from the present moment. And when the monster finally climbs out from under your bed, at least you’ll have a good reason to smile before he devours you. You are already dead. Let’s have a party in the meantime.

About Writing 50 Things You’re Not Supposed to Know: Religion

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Writing 50 Things You’re Not Supposed to Know: Religion began as a chore but ended up being one of the best things I could do for myself.

I had just finished writing a giant 400 page book on religion (published in Italy under the title iGod) and I was focused on nothing but pushing that project. So, when Disinformation asked me work on a much shorter book on religion for their 50 Things You’re Not Supposed to Know series I wasn’t all that enthusiastic. Their mentioning the magic word “advance” (as in “we’ll send you an advance check in the mail”) did wonders to raise my level of interest, but I still felt a bit like a literary whore since this wasn’t my book. It looked fun enough, though. Coming up with 50 stories/characters/anecdotes about religion that are little known, bizarre, possibly offensive and preferably hilarious definitely wasn’t a bad deal. The only issue was that I’d have to finish the book on a relatively tight deadline.

Shortly after giving my word that I’d get it done in time, my life went to hell. Weeks in the hospital by my wife’s side ended with her dying in my arms. At that point, I was left being the single father of a 19 month old baby, about to lose our home and with the high likelihood that a good chunk of the college courses I teach would be cut. In the midst of this, I was still supposed to write a book.

The guys at Disinformation were very cool to me and said they would postpone the project but by this point A. I needed the money B. If at all humanly possible, I never, ever go back on my word. So, I just began to work. Since my free time was non-existent, I would think about the book while feeding milk to my daughter, while driving, in my sleep… The second I put her to bed, I’d start writing until I passed out, and started over the next day.

Even though this may sound like a hellish punishment, it was the best thing I could do under the circumstances. Whining and sitting around contemplating how much life can suck at times wouldn’t have helped me. By forcing me to focus all my remaining energies on getting the job done, writing the book basically chased away self-pity and all those other forces that drain one’s spirit. On top of that, it forced me to be light hearted and funny about very serious topics—at a time when life was neither light-hearted nor funny: the best therapy for horrendously tough circumstances. Last but not least, I have always been a pain about writing. I would spend long hours debating the merits of every single word in the most perverted-perfectionist fashion. Having no time to indulge in this psychosis showed me that the quality of my writing style was the same whether I’d have 2 or 10 hours to get the a section done.

During some seriously fucked up months in my life, writing 50 Things allowed me to smile—a lot. After all, I had a chance to write chapters with titles like “Orgies for Jesus”, “The Trial of the Zombie Pope”, “If You Are Poor, It’s Because God Hates Your Guts”, “Bible Porn”, “Teletubbies Are Gay (And God Hates Them)”, “Zen and the Art of Chopping Your Enemies’ Heads Off”, “Deadly Alliteration: Moses the Mass Murderer” (about this last one… I seriously hope that the sweet Jewish people who gave my daughter a scholarship to attend their daycare don’t read this book.)

Disinformation (and life’s circumstances) removed all inhibitions from my writing. And in dealing with a topic as important and sensitive as religion… the result was a lot of fun.

Commencement Speech, Bolelli-Style

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Most motivational speeches tell you that if you try hard enough, if you stay true to your dreams, if you fight the good fight, if you are passionate enough, if you have enough willpower to withstand rejections and difficulties, eventually things will work out for the best and all your hard work will finally pay off. This is what the entire self-help industry is based on. It’s a sweet message. It appeals to our sense of fairness and justice. And it also happens to be complete bullshit.

Or rather, it can be true only if all of the above goes hand in hand with an insane amount of luck. Without luck, doors will remain closed no matter how much you “think positively” about them opening. The notion that good outcomes await if only you put in enough effort and desire–the notion that the good guys will always triumph in the end after overcoming seemingly impossible odds–belong on the same shelf with delusional maxims such as “everything happens for a reason.”

You are in the wrong universe for that. It’s simply not the way things work here.

Most people like to be told otherwise because they can’t deal with Life when it shows its ugly face. They have to dress it up, domesticate it and turn it into a Disney movie – lying to oneself as a coping mechanism. The realization that life can be neither merciful nor fair depresses to the core most of those who are forced to stare at it.

I don’t find it one bit depressing. I mean… I’d prefer it if things were different, but I’d also prefer it if I was made King of Hawaii. I can live with the fact that the universe doesn’t cater to my preferences.

Life is tough. Ok, so what? It’s not like there’s any alternative, so I won’t let life’s toughness spoil my good mood (ok, perhaps I won’t let it spoil it most of the time.) I’ll do the things I want because they feed who I want to be – regardless of the outcome. I’ll follow my visions because not following them for fear that they may not come true equals accepting defeat without even putting up a good fight. Victory or defeat are largely out of my control, but putting up a good fight… putting up the kind of fight that makes the earth shake and the gods blush… this I can do.

I may fail? Big fuckin’ deal. If that is the way the game is going play out, I’ll make sure to fail giving every last inch of myself. I’ll fail in such a way as to give epic poets enough material for the rest of their careers. I don’t make certain choices just because I was told that if I’m a good boy, Santa will reward me. I’ll make them because living somebody else’s life out of fear of failing brings me no joy.

If the universe ends up being kind to your efforts, good for you. But the key question in my mind is: are you willing to make the exact same choices even if- – as it’s entirely possible – no reward is there for you at the end?

Now you know why I will never be invited to deliver a commencement speech.