tax day

a day of lethargic, numbing despondence that i just could not rise above. sometimes writing can transform my literal world, but not tonight. hopefully tomorrow.

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un-asked question

how come some people get to be Ornette Coleman while others do not? those of us who are not Ornette Coleman can only gaze in wonder. in all of my years of not being Ornette Coleman, i’ve never thought to ask that question.

i could have asked him directly when I met him sometime in the early ’80s. but i think i was too busy gazing in wonder (also known as shy). instead, i exchange a few words with his son, Denardo, who seemed really cool and down-to-earth. and shy

i’m not even sure why i’m thinking about this, as I sit here fighting off an allergic reaction to some not very good Indian food. feeling very itchy and bloated.

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on a bender

another titanium neck migraine day which i tried to wash down in a bender of Dunkin Donuts coffee followed by 2 glasses of pear sake at my new favorite sushi joint. this came shortly after I tore my Patagonia down sweater as I exited the “L” train on my way to say goodbye to my closest friend in the city, whose absence i cannot even begin to conjure.

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de-lusioned

there was a time when i just assumed i lived a charmed life. not charmed in the sense of always feeling magical and carefree. but more charmed in the sense that no matter how difficult things were on the outside, no matter how difficult i made things feel on the inside, no matter the magnitude of doubt and self-doubt–that somehow, somehow things would work out for me.

actually, the more turmoil and anguish i inflicted upon myself, the better my chances were of rising above it all…  and rendering it as moot. it was almost a game i played with myself to make sure that my lack of confidence was completely unrelated/disproportional to the reality of any situation.

for example, i would get so nervous before a performance, nervousness escalating into panic, headaches and nausea, i could barely breathe, i had absolutely zero focus. it was a miracle i could even walk onstage at all. but somehow, once i got out there, the audience would be completely engaged and receptive and welcoming. and each time, i thought i had gotten away with something. that it could only be explained as a freak occurrence. a freak occurrence that somehow recurred again and again. for years.

and then it stopped. as inexplicably as it began. i would look at the sky and ponder where did the charm go? what happened?

even some of my friends seemed to think i lived a charmed life, but for completely incongruous reasons. i think they just assumed i was this wealthy kid from the suburbs who never really had much to worry about because there was always that trust fund to fall back upon. which would make me scream inside because some of these people had no idea what felt like to be on the verge of losing everything. If only there were a trust fund.

maybe everybody makes assumptions, mistaking them for observations. i don’t mean “everybody,” but maybe a few people, including me.

these days i still delude myself into thinking that everything is going to work out. that no matter how bad things get, no matter how atrocious my decisions turn out to be… that some person or some circumstance is going to come to my rescue. but lately, this doesn’t seem to be happening. like maybe for the past 15 or 20 years. yet i persist in my delusion. some might call it resilience. some might call it optimism. some might call it naivete.

i think about this a lot with my new job because i made the choice of one job in one city over another job in another city– and this might be at the top of my list of really, really bad awful choices because … well, i’ve never used the word “contempt” before, but that’s the word that i can’t get out of my head when i think of this workplace i seem to have chosen. i never even knew what contempt meant before these days.

but still, i can just sense that something is going to work out for me because it always does. even when it doesn’t.  things are meant to be this way in order to pave the way for something really good that’s about to happen. but the only way it can happen is to first get through this not-so-good thing. and i can only get through that with the help of outside agencies (gods, animal spirits, muses, angels, protective presences and essences).

some one or some thing is always there to rescue me (I hope). Where are they now?

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de-planed

i hope you don’t mind… well… um… i’m kind of wondering if you could do me a favor. And feel free to say “no.” It’s OK. I know you have a lot on your plate right now. i’m sure i can find another option.

actually, now i can’t even remember what i was going to ask of you. oh wait… i’ve got it now. i’m wondering if there’s any possibility for you to kind of act as my guide. something in between a spiritual guide and, i guess, a navigational guide, of sorts.

like i was thinking about you a lot this week. especially when my flight from Boston to Beijing made a stop in Chicago. And like this automatic impulse just kind of took hold of me and for some reason i can’t quite fathom now, i got off the plane in Chicago. i de-planed. like i totally totally de-planed. why do i keep doing things like that? over and over. have i no self-control?

that’s when i began to think, well, gosh. this is the kind of situation where i could use some help. but i wasn’t sure who to ask. and then i thought of you.

no, i’m not expecting you to be this “voice of reason.” that’s the voice that keeps getting me into trouble. that’s like the voice that’s drowning out all of the other voices, which is really unkind and unfair.

i certainly don’t want to put you in any uncomfortable kind of position. i don’t want this to be awkward for either of us. but i was thinking… well i think it would be great if you could be there every once in a while as kind of a reminder for me to see the big picture.

like if you could have tapped me on the shoulder as i was leaving the plane to tell me “So, Lost Pedestrian, if you get off the plane now, i’m just concerned that you won’t ever be able to figure out how to get back on, and then you might feel more lost than ever, which i don’t think is good for you right now. i’m just concerned about that. i hope you don’t mind my telling you that.  i think you’re just kind of vulnerable right now. ”

and then, if I said something like “well, i kind of think people are expecting me here, and i don’t want anyone to feel hurt or disappointed if i don’t show up,” you might be there to tell me, “look, Lost Pedestrian. nobody really cares if you’re here or there. but it’s not like they don’t care. i think everybody just assumes you’re doing what you need to do to be happy. everybody. so i wouldn’t let that interfere with your desires.”

“i don’t really know that to say,” I might respond. and i would look into your eyes and you would not blink and this would make me uncomfortable.  and i would gaze down at my toes. And then i’d look up and sigh something like “anyway… ”

And then you gently touch my back and guide me back to my seat. and you’d stay there with me for all 13 hours of the flight and you’d help me flag a taxi to take me to my hotel.

Then i’d take a long shower. and once i dried myself off i would wonder how could i possibly have arrived here without you. i’d try to come up with some way to thank you. a bottle of wine wouldn’t seem quite enough, but you know, i don’t really know your taste in books or music.

and then you would say, “hey. don’t worry about it. some day i’ll be asking the same of you.”

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Boston to Beijing, sans Beijing

tonight i found myself on a flight from Boston to Beijing, with a stop in Chicago. I am not sure why I got off the plane in Chicago. Was it fear? Was it laziness about coming up with another excuse for not showing up at work for the 2nd day in a row? What force of habit, what currents carried me off the plane? what force, what currents lured me into eating terrible airport pizza yet again? my body and mind should know better by now, don’t you think?

All of these thoughts, circumambulating in my head as i bustled off to baggage claim. but then, suddenly a flash and I ran back to the gate as quick as quick can be. By the time I reached the gate, they had already closed the door. I pounded on it with all of the power I could summon, and hammering at the steel door with  my fists, arm and knuckles until they bled, I called out, “let me in! let me in!”

but my pleas never did not make it through the door. perhaps i was using the wrong language. the right language seems to elude me in all of these inconvenient ways. And that partially explains why I take the right flights, but then end up in the wrong destination.

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not me

i like to think of myself as the kind of person who is not hostile, inhospitable, contemptuous, malicious, vindictive, pugnacious, rascalian, mean-spirited, morose, embittered, rageful, impetuous, virulent, vile, vengeful, willful, grasping, meglomaniacal, venomous, deceitful, traitorous, treacherous, depraved, villainous, corruptive, morally bankrupt.

But everybody has their bad days. Everyday’s an opportunity for somebody’s redemption. Why can’t tomorrow be mine?

these days whenever i hear a horrible story of how one friend felt slighted by one person, and then continued to feel slighted by that person, again and again. And rather than listen to it all, I look upwards towards the sky, and I murmur aloud, “we are all such flawed  creatures.” And this confuses you because apparently you thought I had said that we are such thawed creatures. Which is not entirely incorrect.

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things to develop

a difficult day at work again. I am too weary to write about it. I must develop a more care-free attitude, a nonchalance, a thicker skin.  but i am too weary to develop that tonight.

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appreciative

talking to my new therapist gives me a greater sense of appreciation for all of those moments in my life when i am not talking to my new therapist.

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Song of Metacognition

my computer is acting up again. it’s claiming that the music coming out of it is Stravinky’s Le Sacre du printemps, when everybody here knows it’s actually Willow Weep for Me by  Ann Renell. Or is it?

speaking of which, i was about to sing you a song of metacognition, but now the words have escaped me. i think it goes something along the lines of :

I know I know something

something concerning my own cognitive processes

or anything related to them

the learning-revelant  properties of information

or data

(refrain)

my prefrontal cortex is sending me signals in a feedback loop

if I notice i am having more trouble learning A than B

if it strikes me that I should double check C before accepting it as a fact

Why do I make judgments about the strength of my own memories?

And then use those judgments to guide my behavior?

What kind of metacognologist

am I?

(refrain)

my prefrontal cortex is sending me signals in a feedback loop

if I notice i am having more trouble learning A than B

if it strikes me that I should double check C before accepting it as a fact

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mid-passage

last night i found myself wondering what you might be doing on a Saturday night. And with each moment of wondering, it hit me that i can’t wonder that way about you anymore because you are gone. really gone. and I felt this a booming thud in the center of my chest, a very, very loud and very deep thud of emptiness.

i can’t wonder about you the same way anymore because i am sure you are somewhere, in some place beyond my narrow realm of understanding. for some reason, i have this image of you in a state of floatation. it’s a nice image. you, in this weightless state,  sort of hovering above me, amused. you’d probably make a joke about weight loss. i would then say, I wasn’t talking about your weight. And we’d both end up apologizing to each other, or actually, trying to out-apologize each other. our running competition.

i hope you do come back. maybe you are making your way back right now as i type these words. maybe you are in mid-passage. When you do come back, it will be a miracle if i recognize you. if we recognize each other.

i wish i could do something to make you come back in a form i can recognize. But just in case you do not, it’s impossible for me to express how fortunate i am to have lived at the same time, on the same planet, in the same city, as you. and drank from the same pitchers of margaritas. and spoke a secret language only 2 or 3 people could understand… and of course, we’d apologize about it.

i can hear you making fun of me for even writing this, but in a loving, non-mocking way.

maybe if i keep this post going, keep typing about you, you will become tangible again. i might even be able to convince myself that your departure was just another one of my strange dreams.

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6:43 pm

for me to describe the quality of light at 6:43 tonight is impossible, but believe me, it was there. it was hard to miss it, even under the roof of a parking garage. it meant a lot to me that you were there, too, as my witness and friend.

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strategies for vanquishing numbness, part 1

  1. entrench yourself in memories of friends lost or forgotten
  2. eat yogurt
  3. finish the final 90 pages of The Brothers Karamazov
  4. lose money from your pockets as you emerge from the subway and then gaze in wonder as a stranger hands it back to you
  5. create a sound loop of a rhythm you can’t get out of your head and listen to it continuously for 1 month
  6. sigh, always sigh
  7. read and see as much and as far as you can without corrective lenses of any kind
  8. banish regret, then return to it, and then banish it again
  9. remember to sleep and don’t forget at least one dream
  10. find comfort in darkness
  11. try not to shrivel up in light
  12. stop thinking that you have slighted people and worrying that this is why you have not heard from them since before the holidays… any holidays, any year
  13. try not to try
  14. fear not

(for D)

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2 hours

how fortunate. i awakened 2 hours too late…. and then was at least 2 hours late for everything else today. and now i’ve missed my deadline for writing a new post.

and i feel awful about it. but i know you will understand, just as long as it doesn’t become a habit.

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Huge Studio in Hi Rise Gold Coast! On Site Dry Cleaner and Tailor $1341

rather beleaguered from viewing 40 or 50 apartments today of all shapes and sizes in various parts of the city. the combination of being open to all possibilities and indecisiveness can wear a person out. i can see myself living anywhere and i can see myself not living just anywhere. landlord and leasing agents ask me for immediate decisions and all i can do is tell them, i’m not ready.

And then they warn me that there are people waiting in line for these apartments and if I don’t act now they will be gone forever because there are more apartment seekers than there are apartments.

And I tell them, well if that’s the case, maybe all of us apartment seekers should live together in the last remaining apartment in the city. And they say, well we should warn you that it’s a small studio. And I ask, compared to what?

And they ask, so out of the 40 or 50 places you’ve looked at, what are your top choices? And I say, I don’t know. Where do you see me living? And they say, we don’t really know you that well. And I say, well, from what you do know of me so far, where do you think i’d feel happiest?

And they say, gosh, it’s really up to you. And I say, it feels like every place has it own set of possibilities. I don’t even know if I want to live in this city or this part of the country. And they say, gosh, that is a real conundrum.  we think you can live just about anywhere and you never know what your life will be like until you live there. would you like to fill out an application?

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