still sailing south's journal
Sunday January, 22nd 2017
2:39 pm - Moving to NYC at a glacial pace


I was there & back again..this time with too many irons in the fire to fuck about.. I was consulting, like I've never consulted before.  Thankfully all I really did is hold a baby in Timesquare & that was enough.  The whole trip was worth it, sunlight spilled from the heavens, trumpets blared & shit, EVERYTHING worked out..actually, this time I almost didn't catch my flight.  I mean, I totally missed my flight, but after being torn from my sleep with 53 minutes to make it from Sunnyside to wheels-up at JFK, throwing a handful of my & someone else's belongings into a case made of suits, I came to a halt, standing over my hatbox & thought, "Fuck it." There is a rock gym in Long Island City, there is a yoga studio across the street & a Chinese herb shop further on. I can pour boiling water over quick-oats and throw a handful of slivered almonds & berries at it in any pocket of this nook. The server girl at Cafe Aubergine already fancies me enough to bring a glass of their finest boxed shiraz, & what more does any old goat need in this world?  Oh, my car.  I should have to do something about my car.  & that was it.  I don't mind leaving it upstate in New Paltz, but to leave it in California..it would just suck to have to fly 6 hours & then drive it 48 hours consecutive just so I can take myself on a stoned tour of New England.. You almost had me this time NYC! ALMOST! * insert quarter-hearted fist-shake here *

A halt & pausing for just that minute, probably cost me my first flight..& the series of interesting interactions thereafter, of which I'm still tallying the cost..I'm not sure if it was worth the very disorderly minute-long daydream I mustered over my continued musings on doffing my west coast ski-cap & getting lost in that sea of fools they call NYsea. I'm already disillusioned with people. & meeting people in airports & on planes..I could write heaps of books about the garbage people I've met. Some jewels there too. Just the crazy is bred so thick in the few & far between, they do disservice to those others who aren't quite as cockeyed & off kilter.

A nice unremarkable 20 something year old girl named Becca, off to a job fair in SF. Good luck finishing school back in Boston. (She only talked to me in the first place because she thought I was her age. How foolish she felt when I told her I was 10 years older than her.) But honestly, what are you ageist!?  & Jeelan, who does dry style at the blow dry bar across from that nitrous ice-cream place in Lafayette..Smitten..the ice cream place..it's called Smitten.. She was nice, too-- rather, for a hoodrat from Berkeley living in her Gramma's basement. (Like I'm one to talk..nestled in the foothills of My. Diablo like a kept boy..if only!)  She was my seat-mate for what turned out to be the first 45 minutes of the flight, until at the appropriate moment, a cuckoo bird-- whom I offered help to during boarding, as her arms were full with a dog in a basket, & slung with overly-full totes-- seat-to-seat chatted me to kick that girl out & have her come sit up in her seat for the cost of a protein box & some alcohol! NOW WE'RE TALKIN'! The verbosity was staggering.

Amy Lott talked more than anyone I have ever talked to, & I talk to me all fucking day. & I TALK A FUCKING LOT. Seriously, sometimes it's all I can do to sedate that little voice in my head. Alcohol used to work. Pot still does sometimes. Lack of sleep is harder to keep going. Exercise is great..3 hours of yoga, a core class, lifting, climbing & running in between & at either end makes that little voice so stupid he's fun to talk to..but that just makes me want to write. But then he doesn't want to stay up anymore, or rather, he's just gotten fucking lazy. Layzeeeboy.

It wouldn't be so bad if I could hear the music over the sound of myself thinking, but Jesus, sometimes it just goes on & on. But Amy though..Amy (talkeda) Lott! We had 12 rare minutes of exceedingly sane & interesting dialogue in which she simultaneously asked if I would move to NY & be her 2nd in command for an corporate events planning business called Tiny Party Collective.

I took her card, & my seat; had just enough time to blanche carrots, look up her shit on linkedin & facebook (because anyone can proffer a card they printed at home, make a job offer & have you tied up in their trunk before you can even shake the face mites you've exchanged in cheek kissing--) After legitimizing her to whatever degree is possible by means of something possible to counterfeit faster than actually blanching carrots, I decided it was a come up when she messaged me to get my seat mate to vacate. Poor Jeelan, at least she got dinner & drinks out of it-- I simply feel like she could have really enjoyed our time together; she just watched episodes of friends. I MADE friends. Whatever enjoy being a glam squad girl.

For me, I know it was the right thing to do. I know it was more than just an episode of social mania to balance my months & months of intense hermetic isolation. I know for me that it is an especially special thing that I get to do when I interact with someone I sense is positively crazier than I am. It humbles me. It dampens the white-hot-heat that is existing absolutely full of energy-- of positive creative force so thick with emotive volatility that it must be poured into some other vessel..ohhh to be welded by the bond of sheer insanity, & quenched in the atmosphere of a steel box with it's phallic shape, gliding through the actual atmosphere. It's lovely, it's bizzare. It's just what I wanted & just what I never needed, ever again. But it's what I got.

It was fine until she offered me K..& after buying us the 5th round of double bloody mary's..I was afraid for her..synergy girl, synergy.. You got a dog in your lap named Bjork. BJORK! What?

Another pig in a poke. Whatever, I'm off to the library.

Thursday July, 7th 2016
9:25 pm - remember when I was this, & you were that?

we were both little pill bugs
crawling around
welcoming the safety of our plated lids
sheltered from the outside world

but i was a littler potato than you
you were supposed to protect me
show me the way

& now we both crawl the face of existence
in our small ways
I suppose I'm stomping around your old digs
while flitting between histories:

of the boy, of the man
of the academic, of the degenerate
of the pack animal, the sheep, the clothing
but the wolf, & the leader too, have I become
& a manager of minds
of relationships, & bodies
beings & beyond
of time, of sorts, even

we all play out each of the roles we are prone to,
over & over again.  Until we perfect, or defect.

Always, though, we know:
curling up in a little ball is what we do best

Tuesday June, 7th 2016
12:48 pm - Your dill has gone to seed

I've tried to wash you out of my hair.  I've diluted your memory with drink, with drug, with physical exertion, sleep.  With new visages, new friends, new men, new orgasms.  Yet, once I'm still, my thoughts always return to you.

You called me your partner.  You said you trusted me.  Said you believed in us.  That you wanted me to be the person you spent the rest of your life alongside.  You warmed my heart to 1000 degrees, & then left me ablaze.

You're everything I've wanted in a partner & more.  I don't even know some of the most amazing parts of you and I am already, inconsolably in love.  Maybe I idealized, or romanticised you in some ways, but I am a fair judge.

I want to wake up with you.  & not just rolling over to see your face every morning.  I want to turn the lights on around us.

I feel lost & uncertain, & even though I maybe was lost & uncertain before..it wasn't something I had to worry about while I was with you.

I'm running in circles without you, just trying to figure out whether the spiral is leading up or down.

Monday January, 4th 2016
1:34 am - With only hands to speak, it's no wonder we talk so late into the evening..

It is a task to constantly hold you in the forefront of my mind, when I haven't met you.  Because you are a figment of my imagination.  I haven't even had the opportunity to lay my eyes on yours-- and yet the feelings I'm feeling easily overpower my rationlity.  You are a puzzle, I decided to put together, not realizing that there are no edges, no picture on the box & countless pieces.  But by the sound of your voice, & the sight of your face in my mind's eye, I will reckon the way that your puzzle fits with mine.

Because I reached for you.  Across time, space & my better judgement.  I sought you out, because you are perfect.  Because I knew you were special, & exquisite..and because I wanted to know if we were ocilliating at the same frequency.  & I hope that I am right in thinking that we do.  I don't have to feel the heat in my neck, when I speak to you, to know that you're the traveller I've been seeking.  I have been waiting lifetimes-- shifting the heavens to sift the stars, to find your light.  If I wanted sex, I'd have it.  If I wanted cuddles, I'd find them.  But what I wanted was love, & so I found you.

So this is how it goes.  I take all the things about myself, you take all the things about you.  We hold them seperately, in our hands cupped, & we both throw them up, into the air, on the count of three.  And then we spend some time picking them up, wondering, "is this a part of you, or a part of me." We keep what is obviously our own, & those we can no longer distinguish as yours or mine, we put into a pile...say over there.  & we make a bed with them, upon which to lay the foundation of the rest of our lives.  Ok?  So...One...Two..Three.

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