April 2


I am in the throes of a very suddenly came from nowhere, very recently renewed Tom Waits obsession. "There's something to be said for saying nothing at all".  That might be my new motto.  Thank you.
 
 
 

I am homesick for New York.  And not a general, I'm in a New York state of mind homesick, but Brooklyn, particularly, fiercely.  I can't say where or why this acute longing has arisen in me, but it's almost an ache in my soul or something .  I went back on Saturday, which was remarkable but way too short.  I found myself not wanting to leave, like I could pick a corner and just stay there and watch people and sip a beer in a paper cup and eat a bagel and feel alive in this amazing, vital and completely vicarious way.  Funny, of course, that when I lived there, I was miserable.  And not miserable in that boo-hoo things are awful manner, but in a "wow, this can't be how things are supposed to be".  Of course, when I was ensconced in poverty and living with my mom and drinking my dinner and chainsmoking and stealing money from my friends for booze, I don't know that my thoughts on anything were all that clear, let alone me trying to come up with some great State of The Union address for myself.  All I can remember is being aware, in some way, that I was living in some state of suspended animation, that my place was so cool and so hip and so easy, that I couldn't ever imagine leaving.  Why would I leave?  I had family and friends around  that loved and took care of me when I needed it.

Connecticut is feeling the same way to me.  Suspended animation. It's easy to live here.  It's nice.  It's pleasant.  Why leave?  Why change?  Why do anything other than exactly what I've been doing for the past however many years?  It is deep within my nature to find some level of tranquility wherever I am, some balance of "this is intolerable" and "this shit is really okay".  I am figuring out which is which, I think.   It's not quick or easy or fun, but there it is.  This me I am trying to find, this me who is not terrified of hurting people's feeling or disappointing anyone, just because of who and how I am.  This me who is watching a life go by as a spectator rather than a active participant.  This me who is starting to realize that it might just be okay to not have a big life plan, not to have a goal of A Great Career or The Perfect Body or Getting Another Degree, not to reach for some prize I don't really believe in.

What I am asking myself is this:  Isn't it okay just to exist? Why do I need a Plan or an outcome?  Why do I have to be a mover and a shaker?  Who said that in order for me to live a happy, productive life I have to want something other than what I have inside me and other than what I am ready or able to give?
 
 
 

Best Thing Ever:


 

I love.  Words fail.  He's sitting in my car now.
 
 
 
 

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things come too easy, I get suspicious
things come too slow, I get bored
if it don't work out I get superstitious
but if it does, oh my word