January 5, 2009

i wish i was the moon

The clock on my mobile phone was incorrect when the year turned to 2009. I don't know if that means anything significant. It was minute behind. I don't remember a countdown. It was muddled in my ears and all I heard was lots of shouting. Happy shouting I think.
"New years always makes me nervous!" R says next to me. I nod in agreement. I am nervous too. Except all the time, at least a little bit. I remember feeling relieved that I was surrounded by people I know and loved, and some strangers too. An entire metropolitan city. It didn't even occur to me to get in contact with others, to tell them Happy New Year! I was content.

The rest of the night was filled with botched cab rides, the meanest coldest gales of wind this winter, extremely fortunate subway timing and Bagelsmith. The best part about the whole thing was how normal it felt. Like this sort of thing happens all the time. Like I would be happy if this happened all the time.

Before the night left Brooklyn, we had dinner at the place I used to work. C was still working there. His pants may have gotten tighter and he's started growing a beard, or some semblance of scruffiness, which still left him sexually ambiguous. We didn't actually have a whole lot to say to each other, catch-up wise. I wasn't surprised I guess. Sometimes nothing happens for a reason. And sometimes nothing happens most of the time. I can't explain it. Rather, I've stopped trying to.

For example, the other day. It was the moon and I. Keeping me awake. Across the table. I felt unlike myself. Borrowed. It had only slightly transformative effects. Or maybe I just didn't want to be rude, I don't know. It prompted me afterward to do things I don't normally do. I was slightly more secretive. Calls were made that maybe shouldn't have been made. I took the long way home. I woke people up and told them nothing of consequence. I asked them which would prevail in a battle to the end: karma or irony. They sounded still sleepy and said, Oh it's you. Before voting for irony.

I left the island feeling alienated and alone and I preferred to be cocooned under several layers of outwear. I don't know what happened. I went home but I was still curious. I was anxious. I would return calls, I would make myself available. I would dispose of all this rampant disconnect I felt, left over from the past. I would try this time. Things would happen. Of consequence!

The thing about the moon is that it may come and go, but at least it's consistent. That's more than I can say about myself. Which is maybe what I couldn't understand. What sort of person falls for the moon?

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