distractions

The thing about feeling 23 is that it doesn’t just come with the good things; the sexual energy and the awareness of your own vitality. Those feelings crash over you like a wave, and then again, like a wave, recede.  And leave you in brackish water with all the insecurities that also come with being 23; the uncertainty around your own value, the knowing that you couldn’t really be that important to anyone.  The holes in your sense of self.  So when you get feeling superior about the way you outgrew all that shit, congratulations on your homeostatic middle age that doesn’t scare you or challenge you.  (Or you can pull yourself apart instead, if you want to, and find the same things at your core that have always been there.)




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you'll have to take my word

Last night I went with A to the 48-hour film festival.  Most of the films were terrible (of course) - but that, I believe, is the essence of these things.  It reminded me of the 24-playwriting festival in Winter Prairie.  Today we are quiet, which is typical of the weekends, but is always slightly jarring, or whatever the opposite of jarring would be when one is startled not by something, but the uncharacteristic lack of something.

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convene

The decision was mine to make - and fortunately none of the worst things were available to me, and so I opted to go out for sangria with Vi, who I see far too infrequently and whose company I appreciate.  She has a different perspective on things and challenges my own worldview in ways that are interesting.  Filled with sangria and confidence at the end of the night I talked on the phone a lot and sorted out some of my confusion.  This, of course, does not mean the confusion will not return.  It will.  (And isn't it something that my confusion is of the variety that becomes more clear when intoxicated?)

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