here's the latest.
The latest mystery: How can these days remain so quiet when there is a rustle an urge a need to be shouting from the rooftops at all times? instead these days whisper beneath the door, kiss my brow gently before taking leave when night falls and taking that take nothing else, not the wondering or the worries or the dreams that trail them like muffled bells tied to coattails. We leave this cursed city the same way we come in: we trace the roads, on the way out we shed our certainties like clothes... these are the words that flicker round the room, following the lick and lap of candles i've lit for the first time this evening. They've been waiting for me since I found them at the dollar store, weeks ago on a gray day pairs of long tapers smooth and well formed shoved to the back of the shelf behind better steals and deals, and then erect and fine from the necks of old wine bottles waiting for the spark and attention to shine. as are we all i suppose.
The latest curiosity: I may be consequential. That is what I think when I run in the morning. There is a power that I feel no other place from bringing feet to pavement, atmosphere to lungs, hands fluttering with the effort and wonder of knowing this is the pace, this is as fast as i ever want it to get, this is the boundary and the line in the sand that is washed away every day as I find myself taller or younger or more conveniently human than the day before. I have a friend who is a fatalist. He calls it objectivity but I cannot emulate the disregard he finds such conviction in. Disregard for... what i'm not sure yet. Not life or the human experience or struggle. Perhaps for the meaning behind it all, within it all. perhaps the possibility, however slight, that we are all consequential and not coincidental. we are more than time and space. whenever he talks like this i tell him to go take a run.
The latest development: I found work. More than modeling, though that will continue I hope. It is something else to feel that this body could be an object of art, of dutiful attention and thoughtful depiction. I cherish it more than these transient students will ever know, i think, that they will witness as i spend time with this body that i have treated horribly and reverently over the years. I modeled privately for the first time this past week and found it to be an exercise in cliche and performance. This man so wanted a muse, so wanted to see something beautiful and engaged that I found myself playing the part. It was strange how powerful and disconcerting it felt after I left. There was nothing wrong that really happened other than the manipulation of what he saw in me. I told him incomplete stories of my being and realized that I have had too many opportunities, perhaps, to reinvent myself that now it can be a game in which I can see both hands and the other person does not know they are playing. I am not a dishonest person, I don't think, but the temptation to be whoever you want for a brief time, to construct yourself for someone just to test reality and its boundaries, can overwhelm me when least expected. To present a snapshot shed of the intricacies and darkness that hovers in all the cracks and crevasses of a life lived, to sterilize somewhat the story and characters and pull the strings in one direction while the audience looks another is intoxicating. but not alluring enough to adopt as a life practice, for that we may all be fortunate.
but more to the point. I found work. I am a baker again. There is a cafe near my house that has lured me in and taken me on as help for the summer. crusty baguettes and flaky croissants will fill the hours before dawn and before the farmers market on weekends now. I've only gone in once but it is such a... space. and concept. they are much of who i wish to be, sourcing as locally as possible, greeting the farmers who drop off ingredients by name, and finding time to talk about the joy of fresh cheeses even as the masses call for more breads, more quiche, from just beyond the heat of the kitchen. And tomorrow I begin the internship that will possibly legitimize the work i did at the university for the past 4 years. this is what I will say when people ask what I do: I do research concerning the economic impact of cooperative businesses in MN and WI in 2008 and correlate that data to report on lobbying recommendations. god i'm not at all qualified for this. but hey, time to leave that nest, right? flutter in thin air for a bit and then perhaps hit the ground running. we shall see. it will be a summer of data and numbers but also a chance to get to know a new system, the network, the way to collaborate and be productive in a way that is not so heinously capitalistic and not labeled to death like all the rest. I fall in love with cooperative structures every time i get close to one so hopefully the hopeless romantic in me will continue to carry me through if the numbers and the office casual, GIS mapping in heels I never thought I'd slip into, fake plants and report after report of hard times, if any of that gets to be too much i will surely be taking more time to create small rhymes of the minutes and inevitably more time in a kitchen here and there concocting a more savory simplicity.
Today I had to tell her I wasn't coming back, wasn't coming home, and we both appreciated how horrible and marvelous it was. ah! individuation is grueling! i can feel the leave taking like a tearing sinew, a slow release from stability and predictable motion. slow release. that can't be bad, right?
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2 comments:
geeze El, once again, your writing leaves me wanting more---a novel or 6, and wonderment over your talent with words.
Ellie,
That was really wonderful. You take us to places. Thanks. A perfect read at 5 am in the morning.
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