Monday, July 15, 2013
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
From my Beast Crawl piece
It’s not because of love. It’s something entirely different. It’s seeing someone as a vessel, a container to be filled with one’s own hopes and fantasies. Chase the vessel and you chase a mirage. Cross that desert and drink from an empty golden cup.
Monday, July 1, 2013
Found myself writing this on Facebook
When I first moved here, I thought I wouldn't stay.
That's not because I didn't love it. I adored it. I adored it and then I
hated it and then I adored it some more. I left it once, I left it
again. I left for weeks and months at a time, but I couldn't bring
myself to entirely turn in my key.
Since 1997, I have racked up
five different addresses, four phone numbers, but no calling birds or
turtle doves. And the entire time I have said to myself, I will leave
someday. Because there are other places I want to explore.
That is still true. And so I am torn. I still want to live in New York,
London, Sydney if Adam would deign to visit Australia. Yet I've built
this life here. As I get older, my definitions of freedom and boundary
begin to flip-flop. I don't know if I feel free or not for having built
this life.
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