The dawning futility of the argument made me fight against it. I knew it was a battle I would never win, but this fact made me more desperate, more determined to somehow win. It explained everything, but made me fight nonetheless. His shark-like grin as I turned by back, attempting to hide the tears of despair arising in my heart...this moment seems to hold the answer. Passion versus cunning. The cunning will marshall any argument, any rationale, even if devoid of research, meaning, evidence. Passion--at least in my body--demands commitment, demands real, "proof," evidence, the everyday in which we live from which this grows. To hear it dismissed aches in a way dismissal of lives only can. Maybe this is the issue. Game versus survival. The obvious evades.
What also gnaws me is the lack of respect, which the other will condescendingly acknowledge at best. At worst, ignore.
Am I a puppet too? Sigh. Back to the rehearsal room.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Friday, February 29, 2008
Little Adventure
Traveling to new places, what do we seek? Adventure? New experience? Meeting others? Like ourselves or not? Do we want to share the experience with others we know, strangers or hoard it in our heart? How many people travel and then find themselves gravitating to those with whom they share the most? And then what do they learn? The real question is, what is gained by traveling to end up in a cozy, edgy cafe, with local artwork on the colorful walls, drinking green tea, typing on my laptop, surrounded by people engaging in alternative ways of living, just like I do nearly every day at home? Did I really travel at all?
My little adventure began at 10:30 on I-80, a little Jasper Fford on the player, camping gear in the backseat, and a song in my heart (indie grrl rock). I arrive at my final destination, late and homeless without a friend for miles. Just free wifi. Bless the Internet. I seek out locations most familiar to me. Bike collectives and edgy coffee shops with beer on tap. I smile, look friendly and harmless. I rely on the kindness of strangers that remind me of friends at home. Maybe they will be my friends too? Friends for a day or two, at least. A futon to sleep on. I am temporarily housed. I wheel through the streets, find the ocean, chase the sunset madly, watch the surfers eke out the last bit of daylight. What is it to live in a place like this? People live here. I am people. How familiar and strange it all feels. Is this what travel is about? Realizing people like you live here? But is it always like that, or only in places close to what we already know?
I will wear my loneliness with my shoulders square and a swish in my hips. Let it drape and flow around me, mysterious and hinting at what I hide. Such comely accoutrements.
My little adventure began at 10:30 on I-80, a little Jasper Fford on the player, camping gear in the backseat, and a song in my heart (indie grrl rock). I arrive at my final destination, late and homeless without a friend for miles. Just free wifi. Bless the Internet. I seek out locations most familiar to me. Bike collectives and edgy coffee shops with beer on tap. I smile, look friendly and harmless. I rely on the kindness of strangers that remind me of friends at home. Maybe they will be my friends too? Friends for a day or two, at least. A futon to sleep on. I am temporarily housed. I wheel through the streets, find the ocean, chase the sunset madly, watch the surfers eke out the last bit of daylight. What is it to live in a place like this? People live here. I am people. How familiar and strange it all feels. Is this what travel is about? Realizing people like you live here? But is it always like that, or only in places close to what we already know?
I will wear my loneliness with my shoulders square and a swish in my hips. Let it drape and flow around me, mysterious and hinting at what I hide. Such comely accoutrements.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)