What is your morning routine like?
Wake up. Brush my teeth. Pay taxes. Make coffee. Read the “Sports” section. Pay taxes. Bliss out to Morning Joe. Shave. Pay taxes. Feed the dog. Walk the dog. Clean up after the dog. Pay taxes. Take a shit. Pay taxes.
Have you found your passion?
The success of an American life is measured in the time the liver of that life gives to leisure. Time and time only. The quality of the leisure that is spent is at the fullest discretion of the people with the time to spend it. The more time you have, the more discretion you get in spending it. It’s simple math. Some people are more adventurous than others in spending their leisure time. Down the street from me, a couple go parasailing in a different body of water every summer. They are retired. A family on the same block has less time and haven’t gone very far beyond the bounds of the occasional amusement park visit out of state. They seem to enjoy it all the same. A couple but a few houses down, who work and are childless, host swinger parties the last Saturday of every month—I believe the retired couple and the couple with children attend these parties. My leisure time is spent paying my taxes. So, in a word, yes.
How did your passion transfer from fantasy to reality?
For much of the time I’ve spent paying taxes, I approached it no differently than most others: as something to do once a year during a designated time. Unlike most people, though, I never looked at “tax season” with the frustration and dread most others attach to it. Frankly, I found the whole process of assessing my earnings, marking down deductions, determining whether I owed or was owed, and the filing of paperwork sort of relaxing. I am not an accountant, but I have always had a flare for arithmetic. Also, I think because I am generally in a good place financially, have few debts, and live more or less within my means, taxes are not so much of a gauntlet for me; on the contrary, they are very self-affirming. I guess it got to the point that my other activities—bowling, football, Netflix, happy hour, holiday barbecues with Kan Jam, date night, etc.—seemed to offer diminished satisfaction in comparison. So I think it was around the August or September after Tax Day that I decided to “prepare” ahead of time, which led to just filing in October. Then next year I did the same, only in June. Then again in November. Did I have misgivings? Did I feel self-conscious? Sure. Don’t we all? But then one day, and for reasons I don’t recall, I was given a copy of this book called The Game and upon skimming its finer points, again for reasons I can’t quite pinpoint, I began to feel better about my situation.
How often are you passionate?
At this point … uhm … maybe a few times a day. But not always every day. Maybe I do it once a day, or every couple of days. It depends.
Is there excess in passion?
That might depend on whom you ask. Since you’re asking me, I’m going to say no. Have my tax-paying activities increased steadily since I took it up as a leisure activity? Sure. But I’d say I do it no more frequently or avidly than a skier who lives within reasonable driving distance of a slope. If you were to ask an addiction specialist, however, he or she might see it differently. He or she might see my steady increase as rapid and my skier analogy as rationalizing false equivalency. But I don’t. I am more or less in control of my tax-paying. It is good as long as I have control.
Do passions intersect? If so, do they intersect agreeably?
My wife doesn’t complain. My accountant doesn’t complain. The IRS doesn’t complain. They’re accepting even if they’re not happy.
Where do you work?
Remotely; in body and in mind.
Do you consent to the passions imposed upon you?
I understand the appeal of sales taxes but I try not to indulge. Sales taxes are a quick, easy-access rush when no other source will suffice. It’s the equivalent of the whippit or the porn .GIF. I will say that what’s more offensive to me is avoiding the sales tax. Such as when New Yorkers swarm over into New Jersey like locusts to take advantage of tax-free clothes shopping. It’s probably a nice boon to the local economy, but I find it deviant.
Are there others who share your passion?
I have not checked, but probably. I go back and forth on whether it would be better or worse to know that I am not alone. On the one hand, it would be nice to form a community of leisure taxpayers so that we can compare experiences and methods, talk about our feelings, our anxieties, our joys. I would probably feel less alone than I do now, though I should say that I don’t feel that alone. On the other hand, meeting others means also subjecting yourself to harsher judgment than the wider community might give. Most normal people don’t care what you do with your time unless it threatens property values or disgusts them in some deep, personal way that is disappointing but ultimately not enforceable. I get the feeling that a community of leisure taxpayers, even just a message board, can devolve into petty spats, envy, mutual disgust, and other hazards and anxieties related to exclusive circles. I’m not that desperate.
Do you feel that society’s acceptance of your passion is adequate?
As much as it needs to be. Despite the fact that I pay my taxes at an incredible frequency, I don’t think that makes me better than people who pay their taxes at the standard pace. Nor does it make me worse. I am a good person. I open doors for people. I take my dog to the dog park. He plays with the other dogs equitably and with restraint. I love my wife. My wife at least appreciates the meticulousness of how I approach my finances. Sometimes she asks me for help, and I oblige as per our vows. I am open and transparent about my urges. Yes, there is some tension and confusion, but we respect each other’s boundaries. On the occasions we make love, I make sure never to have a 1040 in the room. She knows never to go into my office. Ever. I work diligently, I do not cultivate relationships with clients, interns, or peers beyond what is appropriate. I have only paid my taxes during work hours a few times but only when I was certain it would not interfere with my tasks for the day. I prioritize my tasks and my pleasures with patience and maturity. Society may find my leisure activity unusual or confounding. If I showed up to one of the neighborhood swinger parties—which I have been invited to before—with my receipts, there would probably be grounds for censure. But under the present circumstances, waking up at four in the morning to assess my withholding is outside their purview of shame.
Do you feel shame?
I am human like everyone else. I feel the same things that humans usually feel. I sometimes feel less than I should be. I feel like I am denying myself something better that my habits won’t permit me. I feel like I have constructed a box for myself. A psychological box that just happens to look like my private office. In that box I am free from whatever feelings arise from the outside world, good or bad, but not free from my own feelings, good or bad. The bad feelings always fall on whether I’m doing right by myself. Whether I’m doing enough. Whether I am earning the esteem of the IRS or whether earning the esteem of the IRS is the wrong thing to look for in this whole arrangement. Sometimes when I’m doing my morning routine, I freeze, look at myself in the mirror, and repeat like a mantra: “Am I where I want to be? Am I going as far as I want to go, at the speed in which I want to get there?” That’s more like inadequacy, though, not shame. So, no.
Hilarious!