driving
on one’s birthday
(even when one generally enjoys driving)
is a bit of a let-down…
but at least
one can come home
to one’s loud and weird cat
and an ice cream cake for late evening
and general feelings of belonging
being back
in
new york city.
[home]
i always forget
before leaving on any sort of
vacation
just how much i will
miss
new york city.
~~~
what to do
what to say
what to write
what, today?
~~~
is sleeping
in one’s
childhood bed
truly as relaxing
as it seems?
(i’ll check in after another day or so
to inform of my personal findings)
back and forth
And
up and down
And
in and out
And
exhaustion abounds
but today
just forth
just up
just in
(except for some really excellent bagels)
and it’s *starting* to feel like
Home
the very same day
i became a homeowner
in New York City
i portrayed the epitome
of a stereotypical New Yorker
(pizza in hand, honking my car’s horn unnecessarily,
driving in that way that only New Yorkers drive)
(although, if i were a real real New Yorker
i feel like i’d have
neither house
nor car,
so there is that…)
road rage
comes from
feeling safe
and secure
and invincible
in your little metal box
but actually
you never know
who you’re honking at
so maybe
just maybe
just
chill.
(of course, in New York City, all bets are off,
because everyone honks at everyone
and no one really takes it as rage any more
it’s more just part of the general soundscape
of the city.
so…
)
the calm before the storm
creates excitement for said storm.
it’s the weightless moment in circus beats,
that moment that gives you a peek into the idea
that time is a mortal construction:
that second that lasts a lifetime,
you can tell what comes next
and plan your attack,
and set up a nest inside which to watch the storm
roll by.
~
i wrote this
on June 12
originally,
and i don’t necessarily remember
that particular storm
but i remember storms as i love them:
nature’s fireworks,
conversing with the thunder,
dancing in my hometown rain
before i’d fly halfway across the world…
but this storm…
the calm
before
brings apprehension,
we’ve seen one hurricane/tropical storm
flood our [hopefully](soon-to-be) borough,
we’ve seen the devastation
global climate change
can wreak
and we hope folks stay safe
and we hope not too much damage is done
and we hope to have a nice meeting with this
Henri
but we hope to not keep him in our hearts and homes for long…
i’ve started thinking
in poetry.
(even when i wrote in prose
every single morning,
i still only rarely would ponder in words;
usually as a way to plan out
how to describe a certain feeling,
or express a certain something
out loud
to another human being.)
but i’ve started having
words,
phrases,
in poetical form
pop into my head
riding the Q train,
pounding the streets of manhattan,
seeing the sun set
over Prospect Park
and i don’t know how i feel about this…
i, who have always felt some sort of
vindicated otherness
from not thinking in words
(as, i suspect, a slim majority of people do)
but it does bring me joy,
feeling more connected
to this art form.
two weeks
in and out
a perpetual
Go
Go
Go
from New York
to Maryland
(to Adelphi, to Baltimore, to Ocean City, to Frederick, to DC)
to New York
to Upstate
(to Batavia, to Byron, to Elba, to Waterport)
to New York
and now
are we still
Go…Go…?
from Brooklyn
to the Bronx
to Manhattan
and back
and back
and back?
or is there a moment
of rest
to recover
(or is the rest
also going to be
from bedroom
to Zoom
to Zoom
to Zoom
continually
ad infinitum
and on and on and on?)
those who
decide to
or decide not to
have actually made a decision
those of us who
stay in the middle
are doomed to
stay in the middle
~~~
it’s always interesting
to be clued into
another family’s drama.
i’ve only ever been privy
to a few sets of families
but whenever it happens
i feel like an uninvited audience member
to a preview
where the actors aren’t ready
and break character
more than they stay in
and no matter how much i try to tell myself
they’ve invited me here
i’m a part of the family now
i’ve married in
legally
i’m in
i still can’t help
but feel as though
i’m
intruding.
~~~
now i’m becoming worried
of writing too much
of being too real
too honest
for this little experimental experiment blog
when
when
when
did i switch from feeling too fake
and too impersonal
and wanting to be more honest?
[is it just the subject matter i’m worried about???]
figuring out our foundations;
both of us grew up
just outside of a suburban border
(not quite country)
and staying in green
with bugs
and wildlife
and stars and sky
feels so good
but also,
after a year and a half in The City
(The City that Never Sleeps, The Big Apple, The Greatest City in the World)
we can’t imagine living anywhere else.
we would miss the convenience of walking to get everywhere,
an actually useful public transportation system,
the resilience of all the people,
observing those completely unlike you
(and seeing dozens of people exactly like you,
no matter how unique you think you are)
(how quickly New York steals your heart)
