October 15, 2008

things you said and I know this much is true

This is similar to how I feel?




"I could tell you some pretty terrible stories," my mother would say to me, and I believed her. The fact that there are stories to exist, is enough for me. I didn't need to hear them aloud. In theory, all I needed was a good one to abide by. All I needed was that potential energy. Kinetic would undoubtedly follow in due time. All I wanted was momentum. I don't know if it's better to miss things by surpassing them but I wouldn't mind it, I don't think. Anything more than some quicksand lifestyle where the more I struggle, the faster I sink. I'm out of patience with irony.



I had been craving red velvet cake since Friday, when The Bean was all out of their vegan version by 10:something pm that night. The first open coffee shop we saw happened to have it and I was satisfied. Van showed me the Banksy exhibit in the West Village, and then surprised me with my very own bootleg copy of an $800 computer program. Before handing me the disc, he asked, "before I give it to you, you have to tell me- what's your inspiration?"
He asked me if I would categorize myself as an Artist. These were all very interesting questions I had never thought of. I told myself I would consider this later tonight.

He talks like an over-excited faucet with a sporadic southern accent and calls me "dude" a lot. I am overwhelmed, but I enjoy it. We talk about art and bullshit art-talk and I'm aware that that is exactly what I'm doing. I don't know art. The word goes through my mind so many times just then it begins to lose meaning. I decide to start over in my head, and I just listen to him being excited about things. I aspire to be excited about things. To me, that is an art in itself. When I get home I find an email from him quoting William Blake: "I must Create a System, or be enslav'd by another Man's. I will not Reason & Compare; my business is to Create."

To be honest, his enthusiasm in general is pretty inspiring. I leave the West Village listening to Billie Holiday and I believe that my capabilities are limitless. I am confident and flattered. I go home and make some decisions about tomorrow. I realize that all my choices are made depending on how much the results will allow me to sleep in.

About 8 hours earlier I was on a train, not knowing how I would make it through the day. To begin with, I was doubting my selection in footwear for the day. That sort of thing can make or break your day. It wasn't long before I could pick apart every other hasty poor decision I made since waking up. Including the terrible way I styled my hair. But I get over it quickly when the train pulls into the station. I make believe that I am doing something worthwhile.

I read something on facebook this morning that made me wonder what has been said about me to other people I haven't met yet. It began with "From what I've heard of you..."
I thought about the months and years apart the people I know are between. Brushing my teeth with the bathroom door open, my brother is telling his ex-girlfriend on the phone, "I love you..." It seems that everyone I know is in some relationship with their ex-girlfriends and boyfriends.
I almost called Lamb last night on the train home after a particularly grueling day of retail. Then I remembered that I don't actually have his number in my phone anymore for this very reason. But I had memorized it unwittingly. Instead I called D, who told me how he has renewed faith in women. I am genuinely happy for him.

After folding the same shirt more than twice, Cat Power sings jazzily about New York on the speaker system. If I can make it here, I'll make it anywhere. That's what they say about New York. I want to be a part of it.
They tried to tell me several times. As if I didn't or wouldn't believe them. I did. And I do. "Don't worry," they said. "You just need to be patient."
It's Autumn now. Nothing is really the way I wish it were. Not that I'd know what to do with myself even if it were.
I did tell you, one of my short term goals includes being in something like love by winter. "Because I think it would be nice," I said, when you asked How come. By Christmas, at least.
But the way I recall it, I forget how that sort of thing works. I cannot help but think of recessions. Finances be damned, there's so much more to be destitute about.

1 comment:

Simone said...

the william blake quote is the quote that hilary swank was trying to recite to her hubby in ps i love you.

oh shit!