Friday night. When I was in high school and they were still married and we lived in that house I could hear the marching band and the crowd at the football game at my high school if I stood in my front yard and looked up. They would lay in bed and watch The X-Files over a box of pizza and my brother would be busy plotting his destruction. My sister? Exactly. I used to get these desperate feelings. I made pacts with myself. I wrote them down. I lined my eyes in black and put on a shirt that was too small. This is what I will look like. This is what I am now. Time is not passing me by.
I still feel like that. And how do I know time isn't passing me by? I mean how do I know for sure?
I like the feeling of taking my contacts off at the end of the day and putting on my glasses. They're broken and chipped and I can't live without them. I like when Lulu is so tired that she can't be bothered to fix her inverted ear and it just lays there, pink and blooming. When I've forgotten about some surprise in the fridge. The feeling of drinking a lot of water followed by the excruciatingly painful satisfaction of peeing when it's held too long. I like playing banjo. I like my new book journal. Baths. Stretching. Joan Allen. The Band. I like reading things years after I've written them and shaking my head. This is the entire point of this post, I think.
It wasn't Descartes who said "Know thyself." It was Apollo at his Oracle.
My nephew called me when I was in NYC and woke me up at 8:15 after a very late night (very early morning?). He wanted to know if I wanted to come play with his dinosaurs. When I said yes, he said, "Okay, you gonna get in your car?" I don't think a more precious question has ever been asked and therefore I said yes.
I'm cutting my hair.