It’s been nearly a month in New York. It’s been nearly a month and I’ve found a routine, found a pace, and have been lucky enough to sustain myself on very little money and whole lot of discovery. I say “a routine”, “a pace”, because I’m curious about difference. What works here might not work elsewhere. Strike that. Will not work elsewhere. This world is so mutable. So mutable, and so misnamed. Everyone seems to say, “oh New York! The people are so rude, the pace is so fast!” Partly true. The pace is so fast. Keep up. But the people are just people, trying to get to work, get a sandwich, make a date, fall asleep at a reasonable hour. They’re just as friendly and helpful as anywhere else. That’s been such a kindness. People remain much the same. The difference I see is that the wealth of people, the variety of humanity, is kaleidoscopic here. Let’s avoid the word diversity because I feel like it’s a term we white people use to exoticize and other while trying to be inclusive and failing. Kaleidoscopic. Wealth.
I am humbled, grateful for the privilege to do what I’m doing. Strangely, now that it’s been a month, the itch to move has cropped up again. Somewhere between my shoulders, and occasionally in the divot of my hips. A dear friend (isn’t it always) sent an audition notice my way, to which I submitted. I haven’t heard back yet, but the fun thing is, if this all goes a certain way, I’d be here for even longer. If it doesn’t, it’s to Boston. It’s riveting to me that my life could be so mutable.
I was terrified when I first got wind of the audition. I texted another friend and bemoaned the circumstance. “But I don’t want to stay! The trip! The trip!” He (rightfully) called me an idiot and said, “you have nothing else to do. This isn’t the trip, this is you being scared. Audition. The worst that happens is you act. The worst that happens is you don’t.”
Surround yourself with people who call you an idiot, especially and only when you are.
I’m working at a pie shop—Four & Twenty Blackbirds—so if you find yourself in Gowanus sometime between now and October 1st, get a slice and some espresso. Everyone there is brilliant. The food service industry is a gift because of the people you’ll meet. Customers, yes, but coworkers. Wow. These piebirds make me miss Bronte. How odd to miss a thing I stood around complaining about while on shift. How odd to be so unaware.
If nostalgia is dangerous, what’s the danger-cost-benefit-analysis of not realizing what you had?
The loneliness previously described has not been kept at bay. Instead, a big old “why-not-be-lonely-and-enjoy” is what we’re rolling with. I’m lonely. So’s pretty much everyone else I can think of. It’s a big part of being human, right? The intrinsic loneliness and the desire to be seen by another.
Why waste my days longing when I can be lonely and lovely and alive?
I’ve been reading a lot of poetry. It’s starting to come again, after years of struggling to find the words. An unintentional aspect of the trip.
One time, a professor my last semester of school, gave us a writing day with the contingency that we had to sit in class for the whole hour and a half and write. It was awful. It felt performative and false. We really had no way of checking to see who was actually writing and who was fuzting around and either way it was awful. Performative. False. That’s how I feel currently. I’m trying to find the thing I’d like say, the parts I’d like to share. But I’m struggling. It feels performative. I want you to know that. Let’s end simply.
I’m having a really good day. The weather has been so nice. Payday was Friday. A check arrived from that commercial I shot in Cincy. Prior to that I learned just how little I can live on. Grocery shopping in New York is hellacious. Dates are mostly like drinking room temperature water when you’d rather something chilled, ideally a beer. If you ever feel out of touch, call your best friend and then call your mother. Everything is fine in that it’s all falling into place. This is a good moment. I’m having a really good day.
I love you. I miss you. I hope to see you soon.