Dear Marvin,
In response to your letter…
Wow, OK, first off: whoa. That’s a hell of a way to ask someone, “How did you end up like this?” Feels like I’m being lovingly cornered by a very philosophical customs agent, or a very drunk friend.
I do not believe I have consciously “chosen” most of what you’re asking about. Not like I have movies or cereals or shoes, at least. It feels more like a series of slow improvisations, some gentle course-corrections, and a bunch of trial-and-error moments stitched together with equal parts fear, loathing, love, and an adolescent sense of humor I admittedly never grew out of.
Like, I didn’t decide to value empathy on a Tuesday in 2003. But I do remember reading a Moby essay about veganism in 1999 and suddenly deciding I had ethics (not proud of the source, but it happened). I didn’t stick with veganism, but to this day I think about how and why I eat what I eat.
I also remember taking sociology in high school and ethics in college.
I remember realizing I could make my friends laugh in the first grade and deciding that being funny and the center of attention felt pretty damn good. Humor can be a form of kindness. Don’t get me wrong, I can be mean, though I try hard not to be. But I do tend to make light of most things. Doing so says, “You’re not not alone. This is absurd, right? Let’s laugh so it doesn’t eat us.” Or at least I hope it does.
Sometimes making someone laugh is just another way of saying, “I see you.”
I think I just noticed that some people felt safer around me when I tried to listen instead of fix.
So what else shaped me? My mom and dad. My grandparents and stepparents. How they treated people. What they cared about.
And the things they like sparked my earliest interests. Reading Peanuts and Calvin and Hobbes, filled with philosophical wonder, emotional honesty, and pure childhood id. And a bit later, Vonnegut, whose dry wit and moral clarity are like a masterclass in using humor to grieve, cope, and protest. And the music I listen to and the movies I watch, they have all shaped my worldview, chosen from a mind that has always been curious and eclectic, an extension of wanting a broader understanding of the world at large. There was a lot of punk early on, it was loud and fun and rebellious. It felt alive. And then there’s its many offshoots: post-punk, new wave, whatever. To quote D. Boon: “Punk is whatever we made it to be.” I think that ethos can be applied to anything, though I am not sure where I am going with that specific thought at this moment.
And of course, the wonderful, insightful, kindhearted folks I’ve met and surrounded myself with. I learn from them.
Probably learned from the assholes, too. At least who I don’t want to be. One example: I don’t post anything negative on the Internet. One might argue that you do so to say, “vent” or to “find like-minded people,” but assuming I can do those things through easier channels, then I don’t see much of a point. That doesn’t mean I don’t care. I just think there are other ways to be constructive and change the world around me. I could be wrong.
I didn’t pick my flaws, either, afterall. I think most picked me? And some of the stuff that looks like a flaw in one room turns out to be a superpower in another, so who knows.
If anything, I’d say I’m still mid-construction. Some parts of me were built in childhood (which I believe lasted until my mid-late 20s), others under duress in my 30s, and a few new additions are being tested now, permits pending.
I suppose I must mention that I’ve spent over 15 years involved in community work. Organizing, creating, amplifying other people’s voices, trying to keep the arts alive, the local weirdness intact, the public spaces cared for. I don’t think I do it because I believe I can “fix” anything big. I think I do it because showing up is its own kind of philosophy. Because things fall apart without people who give a fuck. Punk is “we build it ourselves because no one else will.” So maybe if I help make a space feel a little more joyful or inclusive or real, someone else will feel like they belong there, too.
It’s not about being noble. First, it often benefits me in some way, whether it be my business or pride or just giving me something to do. And honestly, it’s often a bit chaotic. But I think I’ve always felt a pull toward community not as a “duty,” but as a place where humor and humanity can overlap. Where your weirdness is useful, where making people laugh or feel seen actually matters. That same instinct I had in childhood to be the one who breaks the tension with a joke or brings people together with a story, now just plays out on a slightly bigger stage.
I think I’ve learned over time that I should just try my best, and that sometimes “good enough for now” still matters.
I don’t think I chose to be this way in a single moment. But I do think I’ve followed that thread of connection, creativity and decency because it keeps leading me to people and places that feel worth caring about. And that feels like a kind of answer.
I hope you are well.
Love,
Luke
PS: How did I stumble into your open-letter? Don’t remember, it’s been awhile, but it was likely because you are an interesting, empathetic person my friend, and I value you and your opinions and the time you spend. So I read and I answered. It just took a minute or two or three.