The Dream Before the Dream: Henry's Journals and Correspondence, 2016-20

Henry's journals and correspondence: August 2016. Cannot deal

August 1

I have been reborn.

Is it possible to be kindred spirits with someone who's dead? Because Susan Sontag might be my person. I have just read the first volume of her journals, which she started at fourteen (!). I feel very behind.

It was the kind of discovery that feels serendipitous and fated and all the things one hopes for from living an intellectual life. I wish I could spontaneously step into a bookstore more often, but on a random Tuesday afternoon on which the sun had decided to hide behind clouds so heavy that they seemed to muffle the sounds in the street and drive most people indoors, I ducked into the Oxfam bookshop. It was there and it was empty. I was looking for nothing in particular.

Sontag's deep-set eyes called to me. And the name. "Susan Sontag" is such a perfect academic's name. Henry Fox could be a solicitor or an accountant or a pensioner putting about his garden. Henry Fox could be anyone. But Susan Sontag, that's a woman living the life of the mind.

There's something about seemingly everyone thinking they know your business that makes you curious to know other people's business. I read the more than four hundred pages in two sittings. Here was a woman—young girl, really—who was obviously brilliant but who had to bide her time before she could go off into the world and find her intellectual compatriots. There's something beautiful about that. I wish I could do the same. Pez may fit the bill. Partly, anyway.

And her self-loathing. God, I felt so...seen. Esther might say I felt validated. Susan Sontag seemed to have it all, as far as I'm concerned, but she lived with constant self loathing. The preternaturally brilliant are not so different from anyone else, it seems.

So I have resolved: To keep a journal. To write in it when I can or when the spirit moves me. Esther would likely say I shouldn't put too many specific pressures on myself, but we'll see.
"You are telling yourself a story, that if I could only do these things, I would be able to control my environment. I cannot get my father back, but maybe I could exert control by being disciplined. And if I can be disciplined, then maybe I can at least foresee if I am about to lose something," she'd say, some of the consonants softened by her accent. 

God.

From: Percy Okonjo
To: Henry
Fantastic Mr. Fox!
I ain't calling you that. I'm just telling you it's a fucking amazing movie. And you should watch it.

From: Henry
To: Percy Okonjo
We can discuss and raise our fists in the air as greeting, much like Mr. Fox and the wolf.

I've seen the movie. It's very good. It was comfort viewing for a while, but I think I'm looking for something else. Rather, something new.

How're the charismatic megafauna?

From: Percy Okonjo
To: Henry
"I've seen the movie." Yeah yeah. I've seen it too, you git. I was just telling you you should watch it if you hadn't already. I'm still figuring out how much of a nerd you've been your entire life. I assumed you were mostly a reader.

From: Henry
To: Percy Okonjo
I am.

From: Percy Okonjo
To: Henry
And I just made the connection—of course you've seen the movie. Because it's good. Plus, your dad worked in film. Duh.

From: Percy Okonjo
To: Henry
Oi?

From: Percy Okonjo
To: Henry
Thanks for calling me. I'm sorry to bring up your dad like that. I know it's still fresh. I joke around too much sometimes. Meredith tells me it's the straight man's curse.

Don't know if you actually use your Instagram or what, but if you did, you'd see a photo of me and a very muddy-looking girl. That's Meredith. Summer fling? Maybe/probably. She's going back to Cambridge at the end of the summer. Not our one. The one in Massachusetts. But it's fun. She's fun. She's a graduate student in anthropology. Your boy Pez is workin' it with the older women.