friday

The first thing I noticed when I woke up this morning was the temperature. The bedding felt soft and just right on my bare skin, but the air was warmer than last night. I noticed birds were chirping and the sun was bright behind my dark shade. I could see light around the edges of things. He was curled, to my right, into himself, and we were both under the blanket. I was lying flat on my back. My memory of the night was black. My eyes wouldn’t open. My feet felt tingly. It was only 6am. I fell back asleep and the next time I woke, I worked to get my eyes open, had some trouble with the right. Exited bed, cell in robe pocket, why is my daughter on the couch? She’s dressed and slender in tight, long, cutoff shorts and a white tank. I need to get her to an agency. She’s looking more and more the part of young, fresh-faced, boho supermodel. Her skin is honey; she’s reading Miss Jane Pittman. She studies me for a moment and goes back to her book…three more days of fifth grade. I log on, hopeful. Not much there, I consider last night. My girlfriend was fun; the band was enjoyable. The weather was wet, my feelings even. This morning, I remember I no longer have to go to work, not Friday and not Monday. I’m still trying that hat on for size. It feels light on my head, almost imaginary. The sun is so bright the last few days. I’m almost afraid for it to rain, wondering if the clouds will bring with them a shift in my mood. Does how I feel have more to do with the weather than my actual emotions? Even as I wonder, I know this moment is neither dark nor powerful enough to hold me down. No matter how jarring Tuesday was… (Who gets laid off on a Tuesday?)

Something bigger than me is always moving. This moment is no exception. Too much time has passed since I’ve summoned. Or created. Perhaps I got too far away from my creative core. Complacency is the devil. So too, it seems, is a 9 to 5…

For the next few weeks, I will be reacquainting myself with a few people I’ve wanted to sit down with. I’ll be scheduling lunches and overnights and brunches and drinks. I’ll be visiting people’s houses and riding in their cars. In my family, I’ll even be sleeping in their beds. The invitations are already coming in. I want to spend some time observing others’ lives, immersing myself in how people live. People can be very welcoming, even as they hold you at a distance. I am quite fine with drawing my own conclusions though. Right now, I’m just watching carefully for inspiration, I guess. And for clues about life. What makes some people successful and others constant failures? What makes people give up on life only 20 years in? I want to see what people are up to. What happens behind closed doors has always fascinated me. Who are we when no one is looking? Who are we when we’re alone, left, rather completely, to our own devices? What do we not say to others but think to ourselves? (Thinking about Jenny Holzer yesterday: Protect me from what I want) Who do we watch and why do we care? What are the habits that have broken us? I respect and value the people who let me in, let their guards down, feel free enough to be themselves with me…entrust me with their secrets, and walk with me, in figuring out the fucking point of things. I should pause here…I’m not actually with the people at the moment, because sometimes, there really are just too fucking many to deal with at once. Like now, in downtown Chicago…

To be continued…