Beautiful cities, alive with people just spending time in shared spaces and walking and moving about in common transit -- in Chicago today, in Madrid last week
Each street, each rinconcito with character- and the feeling it gives me to be somewhere exciting, somewhere with movement, makes me resent the sleepy Valley
or maybe it's reading "The Boy Kings of Texas" that's clouding my view and making me restless
You say you want to make the freelance thing work so you can just travel, spend several weeks in New Orleans, just get up and go
you say "You know how I am, by now", act surprised when I want to have a conversation about this, want to better understand what it is that you think you want, want to clarify where I fit in to this whole shebang
You say "You see the world differently, I accept that", but refuse to elaborate how I see the world - do you even know? I feel that you don't. You certainly don't read my fucking poetry. And maybe you should. Maybe I should give you more, volumes of certain places and the way that they make me feel, and the way that living in those respective places have shaped where I am and where I want to go and what I think about, and more importantly the way that the city makes me alive and full of energy and vigor and potential so much so that I see flashes of my favorite rincones in moments of bliss. Maybe you would understand me better, and maybe you would encourage me to pour more of it onto paper, like I used to do when I was lonely and living in New York and didn't have that many friends to talk to.
But ultimately, I feel that you just think about yourself and the path you're trying to carve. I guess it's natural to think that way, to not probe, to not know enough to care to ask or listen. Maybe one day you'll find it's important to you to know me in this way.
Maybe one day we will live somewhere beautiful together, and you will understand me and I will understand you in this way of place, and all of this anger will go away, morphing into acceptance and something like understanding. Maybe we can share a love for a place. Because when I feel at home in a place, I just see more and more depths to uncover and interrogate and love, walks up and down the same decades of city blocks that help me when I'm stressed and make me feel at one with something larger. When I feel at home in a place, like I felt in New York, I don't need to think about moving or whether somewhere else might have more for me; I start to think about how I can be more in it, and for it.
And that, to me, is Good.
