Quote Therapy Podcast
In the middle of the field I stood, no one around me for miles. I had been doing plenty of reading about the nature of the universe of recent, and looked up at the sky. Finally feeling more so than I ever had before the crushing truth of the statement that said there was nothing but us for millions of lightyears. And yet, in the middle of the park surrounded by nobody, and with the millions of lightyears of nothing beyond, my brain stilled, every chaosed thought collapsing into a string that held so much more emotion than I could express in words. Almost on reflex, I opened my mouth and uttered:
I’m alone, I’m all alone.
But these weren’t my words.
I love animation. I always have. I struggle to remember a time before I informally dedicated my life to learning every piece of trivia about every pixar movie available, following shortly with Disney thereafter. I feverently rewatch things, endlessly obsessed with the beauty in each of the drawings and how much depth of emotion can be expressed soleley with lines and colour.
I often rewatch segments not only weeks after, but seconds after I have enjoyed them.
This is what led to the words of Nick Birch from Netflix’s Big Mouth stuck in my head that night. However, unlike me who was stuck in a lockdown, Nick’s aloneless had been manifested through the death of everyone on Earth, as he was stranded in Space.
And while the eerie reply “You’re not all alone, Nick” was of course for Nick that of Tito the Anxiety Mosquito, for me You’re not all alone, Space represented my tethering brain as it peeled apart within itself, isolation driving it deeper and deeper into what felt indistingiusible from separate units inside of me, able to bicker and compain all day, collapsing only into one magnificnet person in the presence of another human being.
This was the first of the quotes, and the first of many. Though I certaintly have examples of quotes I would repeat often beforehand, I’m alone marked the first of many, many quotes my brain would grow to repeat endlessly as the year progressed. My brain would pull them up as it saw fit, often due to emotional similarity, such as in All Alone, but also in semantic similarity, as similar sentences seemed to bring up more and more quotes that were similar that I didn’t realise at all were indeed stored in my brain.
I began to note down the quotes that my brain frequented most often, stored at spacelutt.com/fic, which lives in a one thousand, eight hundred and twenty-five line long notepad file on my computer, which is still being added to as new quotes find themselves in my brain.
I thought more and more about this practice as it gained a bigger role in my life, helping me to process extremely strong emotions via swapping out other words. I noticed the tremendous lack of reflection of the process available to me on the internet, and felt very much solo in a painless way regarding how I related to quotes.
So I contributed.
The night I realised this, I wrote “Quote Therapy” and uploaded it to my blog, a satirical reflection of quoting from the lightly held perspective of a doctor prescribing the treatment to a patient, my goal in writing to capture the feeling as tightly as possible such that any others like me would read it and feel as though I had looked into their brain and read their very thoughts.
A month later, I had quit my optional actvity and needed to take up another, so I did podcast making. We were given the option to create any podcast we wanted, so I adapted the blog post into a podcast. This podcast won the award for the best podcast ever made. I’m very tired, but luckily I have other things to do and to watch now, like that Bluey episode. Woo! Cartoons!
They were the words of Nick Birch, the main character of the Netflix show Big Mouth. I had recently seen and adored season four episode six, which involved
“I’m alone. I’m all alone”.
My brain spoke without my knowing, without my consent, as I stared up into the sky. It wasn’t wrong, I was indeed