Last night I was tired from the Gay Pride Parade, my feet were killing me and I could still feel all the bodies I had to press against in order to make it out of Bleecker and Christopher. I was drifting asleep on the couch and some TV show about 4th dimensionalism was playing in the background.
The minute I got to my, soon to be former internship, I knew I wasn’t going to stay the whole time. I never caught anyone’s name and during lunch I couldn’t swallow any food.
I feel good about the rest of the summer and I’m looking forward to letting myself do what I want. Bike to the library. Read LOTR. Live in every moment. Play with this dog.
There are all these beautiful thoughts floating around my head. I lost them for a couple of minutes today. I was filled with rage and sadness. If anyone came in my way on the street, or a car was about to cut me off, I was prepared with some angry words and a, “DON’T FUCK WITH ME.” But, I went to yoga. I didn’t feel better because the yogi was all “new agey” whatever the fuck, or because I felt like I was exercising. I felt good because I could find my breath and think, “I don’t give a shit about people around me who are better. I’m here. I am, I don’t need to compare.” It was WHAM: who long did it take me to realize THAT all my life?
I am in love with people and strangers. Sometimes I am repulsed by others. Sometimes I don’t trust. But interactions with others can make me happy.
I forgot to talk about Sunday. It was humid - I think 95% humidity. Tommy and I needed showers and food in our bellies. We took the ACE from 8th and broadway up to Times Square. A homeless man was on the train stuttering about 9/11 conspiracies. I used to fear, “what if this homeless guy who is proclaiming to be Jesus is actually the next messiah?” But I don’t fear that anymore. Everyone is holy (or holey depending on their situation). It rained on me and Tommy. It felt nice to me. Tommy hated the rain. To each his own. I feel better about being in a world full of strangers, now.
Last night I dreamed I met god and the devil and my non existent little brother was being controlled by the devil. Also, god looked like a little fat kid with an ugly sweater, except he had the coolest scepter that looked like this:
Last night was beautiful. I went to brooklyn to hang with Leila at her friend’s apartment. Children were playing in the fire hydrant stream across the street from the apartment. We enter the apartment (it was so hot!) and I meet her old friends, and some new ones. Joshua, a light skinned Puerto Rican from Queens gasps and tells me that my aura is generous and beautiful. He and Snakey, who is still wearing the metal tag from the Met, are in love with LSD and Jesus Christ.
On the roof there is music and a few more people. There’s graffiti/art all over the place. Remnants from the 3 hour long water ballon fight is scattered around the roof (long puddles in the depressions on the roof top floor and a few brightly colored latex scraps).
I met so many people who I felt like they were already apart of my life, my story. We huddled and stroked one another’s backs (some were smelling one another’s essences). Most people were on drugs, but the drugs made the barricades fall down. We were so honest, so free. I was so happy, to move, to talk, to touch. Sometimes, for some, drugs allow people to experience humanity undiluted. Leila had an example of natural urges (like sex) as a beach ball drifting on top of water. In particular societies, we press down these natural urges - repress them - so naturally, the urges press back to try to get on top of the water. Thus, our society is over sexualizes. The same to me, is true with the self. We come up with a charactered version of the Self. But, when we are finally allowed to be natural, to not repress, we all connect so beautifully, and love is… real and tangible.
Thick turtle shell round glasses. Gold watch, and expensive button down. Asking where he bought his stylish round glasses, he shrugs and says, “I dunno.” I’m fascinated with money and other people’s obsession with it. I like to look how people’s body shifts when they spend, and how the slouch after that initial purchase. I’m glad I figured out that talking about money or wealth or asking prices is in fact unclassy. There was this one time, this girl must have assumed I came from wealth just because I’m from the east coast, and all she talked about was how rich her roommate is but how her stuff didn’t reflect her status. She was disgusted by it, “why not buy a new car…?” and something about that made me feel so sorry for this money obsessed girl.
Yesterday on my run, I saw the absolute most beautiful thing. These little children were playing in their front yard. They saw their father walking down the block, he obviously just got off the bus from work, and they were shouting, “daddy!” and yipping and laughing and running towards him. It was so cute. I love children because they’re so perceptive and have morals, but sometimes they’re so much smarter than us and they really appreciate the little things.
I hate television. Also, I hope once I start work I can fall into even better habits. Riding the bus is strange. It’s always when I miss my boyfriend the most. Maybe because it’s when I’m in between states and when I’m the loneliest. I’m surrounded by all these people, and yet we hardly talk, when we touch, we apologize, no one looks in one another’s eyes, we avoid. People are strange. Cities are strange. All in their own way.
I really like Die Antwoord, not just because they have come innovative beats, but their music incorporates so much. The Beat generation was dissatisfied with their parents and elders, and to me, Die Antwoord is dissatisfied with the faker-ocity of various cultures. In their music, I don’t think their making their living situations exotic, but rather showing how in their culture, poverty and the need to live hard is very real. Ne way, they’re blowing upppp and thats cool.
When I was in seventh grade, my father and a few friends of mine went swimming at a lake in Woodstock, NY. Driving home from the lake, to our friend’s country house, our car got hit by a deer. Years later my dad confessed how that moment was a turning point in his sobriety: he didn’t have to worry about having to cover up alcohol on his breath.
When I used to drink and drive, I had to think so hard about what I was doing, “ok, press the gas a little lighter, you’re drunk so you don’t have control of how hard you press it, don’t drive too slow, that will be obvious…” I felt extreme guilt and pride when I made it to the door of my house. Every night I left my shoes in the foyer and crept as quietly as possible up the stairs to the safety of my bed.
I think thats one of the things I’m struggling with now. Back when I used to drink, I had to cover up all that I felt guilty for, like, drinking and driving. I had to convince myself that my actions and feelings didn’t exist (or weren’t as bad as they could be). Now I feel like I have to experience guilt. It’s like having an extra useless appendage and then it’s suddenly gone. It didn’t bring you any good, but now that it’s gone you still remember how it used to take up space in your mind, in your physical space.
Today I drove four blocks in my father’s BMW to pick him up from the bus stop. I was so full and so unhappy. Before I left the house, my mom and I were silently eating dinner (tomato, basil, cucumber, mozzarella salad and flounder and rice and brussels sprouts) and watching TV. It made me sick. I love my family, so very much, and to finally see and feel our short comings has been very painful for me. I want change, but I don’t know what to do. We were alone in our delicious meal: watching Tom Brokaw on the BP spill and listening to how cancerous our society is while our own personal family problems loomed over our head. I turned off the TV and told my mom how much I hated money and how I just want to be happy. The phone rang, my cue to pick up my father.
I watched the rearview mirror and waited for a girl to finish crossing my driveway. She looked tired as if she had just come from soccer practice. I drove down my block, and it hit me so suddenly why His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama and so many others discuss the importance of love and straying away from material things. They cannot bring you happiness. Only love endures. It became just SO clear to me within seconds. It made my vision clearer and my body both feel remorse and giddy. The past couple of days my parents have bought me new clothes and make up for my upcoming new job. We have discussed buying a new “smart phone.” I know these are things I can conform to, to be normal and to be accepted or to blend in… But I don’t want to do these things.
I have such conflicting attitudes about minimalism and consumerism in my life. I don’t want to consume and I want to be more… thoughtful with my purchases, but it’s my parents who support me and I cannot change them. I can’t make my mom stop buying strawberries even though they contain so many harmful pesticides in their bumpy seeded skins, I can’t make my parents turn off the TV. I love them so very much, and yet I see the places where they are stuck and feel the rooms in my soul which I can strive to improve.