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balance (2): luv

Saturday, August 22, 2009


i never realized what a sappy romantic i was until i arrived in NY this time around. my imagination tends to run away with itself sometimes. my romanticism is often missplaced. it's like that feeling that famous people must get (ie. frances bean cobain, whom my friend rode excitedly with on the L train the other day). just because something or someone looks familiar and true, does not mean you understand it or them. they could be something other.

i fall in love with everything and everyone around me. but as it happens the end of my love stories are all that they end up being suspicious of me. i am the happiest, most realized, calm and laid back person most of the time, who takes each new thing with an optimistic curiosity. but i am untied, i have no peers. my phone doesn't ring with concerned family or happy friends. i move too quickly for that- but it is not me who gives up first. people don't trust my abnormality. people don't trust kindness, openness, free-spiritedness...and least of all generosity. and thus, though i always grasp for their potential, they always slip away into muddy mundanity. not able to brave the depths of the honesty and reality and adventure of my life. a pervading theme for me though, and my own fault too. i expect too much back from people. and i am stubbornly blind. i want people to be things that they are not capable of being, that they are simply not. i refuse to give up on what i want.

anyway... i am a romantic because i love that feeling of wandering alone in a big city full of crowds. a feeling that fate could pluck you and some other person at random, and throw you into a situation together of whatever consequence...some insignificant moment that leads to a parallel life.

that has already happened a few times to me here, people who have been dropped into my path, for however brief a time. there is my random roommate who beams a pretty mask behind which hides a desperately sad and lonely lady (which i can relate to sometimes, so i do, sneaking a cigarette to get out of my room). there's the polish landlord i spent a nice afternoon chatting with, who showed me his photos of him on camels in egypt, and flying gliders in boulder (where i also learned). he taught me a little hungarian (which i spoke til i was 3 but don't remember). i think i really fell in love with him a little bit even though he was maybe 65. he scolded me like a father for having bad credit. he was a businessman who tried to gouge me on rent. i had dreams of him a couple nights after.... there is the bartender boy at the thai restaurant neighboring one side of me, who contrives to run into me whenever i walk out of my house. he is innocent and energetic. too clean for me but i like the attention, and the fact that he is leaving in 2 weeks to play bass on a cruise ship. there's the apartment broker boy with the thai girlfriend on the other side (i contrive to run into him because he's cool. he told me a little about growing up in the gutters of LA). i like to brush lives with people. i refuse to do smalltalk. if fate is gonna throw me a bone, i intend to recognize it. i throw myself into these little relationships with love.

thailand follows me (my ex thai boyfriends both wrote me asking for money within a couple hours of each other). i found myself singing along to the music on the radio at my favorite thai restaurant, listening to the staff banter in thai. i am too shy to tell them that i lived in their country for the past 7 years or so... my thai is atrocious. but i love their hairless arms from afar. i remember their soft grandmothers patting my hand and handing me plates piled with food, dragging me behind them with a polite smile to gold-gilted temples with choking incense and beautiful flowers. it is easy to be romantic about thailand in retrospect.

and the beautiful skinny boy in the 3 piece suit i saw on the L train. with tousled blonde hair. we kept getting off and back on at the same stops, and just missing each other's lonely gaze. if i see him again i will snatch him up for sure (i regret my mixed signals, out of fear, as usual). he had eyes that looked right through me, begged me for a connection. i wanted to go curl up in him, kiss his face. instead i tried to stare at him coldly. if that is the end of that love story then i deserve it. but i basked in the romance of the afternoon in my head. i sat quietly on a stoop in the rain to eat my pizza, watching my neighborhood thoughtfully on my way home, putting out feelers of energy to him, hoping we bump lives again.

i sobbed through hours of sad movies i subjected myself to, since it is romantic to sob alone in a theater, and in my castle, my corner room with 3 windows looking down on my busy, sunny neighborhood. i the sad queen. i wallowed in stories of death and tragedy. mourning the lover i don't even have yet. believing like a fool that that can even exist. i especially liked the love story in 'inglorious basterds'- the fatal love that can not be denied. it took my breath away. another floaty afternoon.

...i have said goodbye to all my lovers, for the first time ever i leave them in the past. i tried to explain to my little twin 'a' the other night why that is important- why the past must be left to the past. but you have to not want it, mixed in like blood with milk, in your future, i guess. he didn't understand at all. i miss kissing him goodnight too, my almost-lover, the stubborn boy with a purr. but i have to let him go too. at my age i guess there is always another girl.... but leaving love in the past has helped me change my perception of it. i have become less desperate. i can lie back and float, let others drift into and out of my life as they will from now on. love them as much as i can while they are in it. and forgive them when they are gone. if they don't want to take advantage of it it is their loss. i still sip out the romance. i am content to witness life on my own, in my dreams for now. i am confident that the future is good.


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