Sound of steps and rhythm from feet,
walk paced, an unknowable beat
In and out
Up and down
Shoes of a clown
or high heels today?
You know it’s calling, you feel the ease
but where are you going?
Is the answer above the trees?
There are no answers to questions in the breeze,
only silence in spaces of all man’s dreams.
Adventure calls but its voice can only be felt. It’s a feather tickling the heart and a longing in the belly. Those who follow the call arrive in their lives with masks of comedy and tragedy tucked in their back pockets, showing those behind of their past.
For those who walk the lonely path toward meaning offer the opposites to the present like a sacrifice to the gods on the altar of fear. Babylon should be so lucky to imbibe the river’s floods.
Drink up. Suck upon the marrow of time.
Let the city unfold your perceptions as a lover opens a letter. Retreat into yourself but watch. There are patterns, signs, and ways of thinking. Discern them all! Allow the blossom of your heart to unfold like the petals of a flower seeking the sun. Learn the ways of the world but don’t become those ways. Walk your own path and feel those who’ve passed by.
Looking, searching for myself in others, I find the streets.
Uptown and downtown, I walk along designed graph paper, seeking.
The seer sees.
The seeker seeks.
The bird, he sings,
And the tree, she weeps.
Oh city, take me under your wing.
Tell me your secrets like the train passes the breeze.
Perfection rests in her skin and fat cells, its foray to superficial values is a skid mark on America’s underpants. How feminism turned from a conversation about equality into a talk of lesbian fashion sent me into the Rubik’s cube of social puzzles. I don’t want to play. I know the value.
People talk about New York being a character in the work of my two favorite filmmakers: Woody Allen and Louis CK. (Louis CK is better-known as a comic, but I have a sneaky suspicion that his comedy career funded his art as a filmmaker.)
I just took a month off and one stop on my journey was a trip to NYC with one of my dearest friends. She went to NYU for law school because she is fucking smart and waaaaay more brave than I am. I’ve visited New York many times but this time we pretended like we lived there.
I am a Texas girl through and through. I’ve lived close to home and travelled quite a bit but the only reason to move away would be for a love who lives far away and I have yet to cut my roots.
My confession is that I’ve fallen in love with a city. New York has a palpable quality and it suits my taste buds. New York knows what it is. You see possibility. You see variety. You see intention. You see wisdom. I am romanticising, but I don’t care. There was so much beauty… So much I didn’t understand. For a man-made place to evoke/invoke awe… Ok, I’m in.
Inspiration lives in its sounds and sights but basically, it has an energy and it resonates with me. I get why people love the city and I understand why you’d want it to be a part of your art.
I was transported to another way of being for a twelfth of a year and I will always send a post card to New York, hoping he writes back.