Friday, June 03, 2016

Downward and downward

I'm starting to realize that I am depressed. It's the weird thing about depression is that it takes so long to realize that you are there sometimes. Maybe some people notice faster but I don't. I try to be positive. I've lived through so many hard things that I can't imagine how you live through good things with unhappiness. Maybe that is exactly my problem.

Soon, I travel again. I've traveled a bit this year. There is no mention of it here.

I've lost myself. Large parts of myself have disappeared, or at least, places where I centered pieces of my identity. I am, at this moment in my life, the most completely and totally self-dependent I have ever been. This should be a good thing. I find it terrifying and troubling. I'm unhappy. I don't love New York, but have tried hard. I miss people. I miss being more engaged with the world.

I have become nothing but work and work and work. I'm not living. This troubles me.

Last night I dreamt of the Irish and the One. When they were both young and beautiful and happy. When all three of us were happy. When we smiled and kissed under the stars and held each other on couches and drank wine and watched the stars in the sky over a city. When we eat and slept together.

When we talked.

When we were all in love.

I dreamt about the Boy, my love, when we would walk in the forest with dogs. When we were so dirt poor that a good time was a hike in the woods and doing laundry for free. When I would cook for us using only the cheapest foods, tuna and ramen. When we were happy because we didn't know any better, but unsatisfied because we did.

I dream of the Artist and holding hands and walking down streets in strange places, beautiful places, kissing on hilltops and holding each other and being committed. I dreamt of us as windswept and dangerous and beautiful.

Last night I dreamt of my past and how beautiful it was.

This morning I woke to my present and wondered if it wasn't just as beautiful only different.

I don't have an answer.

Four days ago I rode on a bike down LSD with Hellion and was in love with his youthful joy in a new city. I envied him. I miss seeing beauty everywhere I look.

My words have been escaping me but I need to find them again. I have to exist for me, or I exist for no one.

And that is perhaps the most depressing thought of all.

Monday, April 11, 2016

Star Wars: A New Generation

Of course, I had tickets to opening night of the new Star Wars Movie: Episode 7, a new old hope rises again in the empire, or some such. I don't recall the name. It didn't matter. It was the new Star Wars movie and that was all that mattered. As I did not want to go on my own for such a monumentous event I invited Hellion and the Jewish Cowboy (his roommate) to join me for the adventure.

Being that I was going on opening night I figured I'd need to get there a little early to stand in line. Granted, my tickets were for the 10:45 p.m. show, so I figured I wouldn't have to wait all day, but still, it would be good to be inline. To help with the madness I even took the following day off work so I could sleep because that is just how ridiculous this thing was going to be.

All I could think about all day was the show and finally, at 6, I was home, pre-gamed, and dressed in my most best recently made Star Wars dress which also glowed in the dark. It was fabulous. I went and hit the lines around 8:45 p.m.


At 8:45 p.m. the lines were three block from the theater. This seemed not only ridiculous but impossible, but I figured it was now or never. I called the Jewish Cowboy to find out where exactly he was, apparently on set and on his way. I just didn't want to have to wait in the damn line alone. Granted, I wasn't really alone, I was swarmed by people on all sides having all manner of conversation, most of which were entirely uninteresting.

What did catch my attention were the twelve year old buskers. These two clever kids had set up a racket. One was playing a saxophone. The other, was running a hat up and down the lines. They look to have been there all day. And what were they doing?



The sax player had a book of Star Wars theme music and would play random themes. Tune from the Cantena from a New Hope. Vader's theme, Luke's Theme, Laya's theme. He had them all. And for each tune his friend would run up and down the nearby line and collection tribute for the players. They reminded me of me when I was twelve and would rent Nintendo games off my front porch during big public parties that would take place in the lot behind my house. I gave him five bucks. It was the highlight of the night.






The Jewish Cowboy showed up and we held down the line until Hellion arrived. We were first in line for the theater and got the best seats. The movie was exactly what I wanted it to be. An old hope, a new hope, an empire striking back, and a jedi lost. It was perfect.