Timing
09/19/01
Timing.
The notion of time, timing, opportunity, and being present within each moment has come to mind a lot over the last few days. Most recently with the week’s events, but always in bits and pieces from time to time as well.
At 10:30 tonight, Potpie & I stepped outside on the patio, lit our respective candles, and dealt with our mutual sense of solitude. I had learned earlier tonight that a boy toy that I liked to kiss on occasion, whom i’ll refer to as MWNC (man with no chin), had recently overnighted with a new love interest. They were both at my last party too. Bohm chika bow bow. Yesterday, an exfactor whom I hoped to borrow for a hug told me he’d started seeing someone as well and felt the situation would be complicated too. Fooie. And thinking back on my exhausted return to the US, while halfling & potpie had scrambled to come pick me up from the airport, due to miscommunications, they were an hour late and while others were greeted with flowers, flags, and immediate hugs and kisses at the customs gate, I was outside by the curb waiting and realizing that I wasn’t really coming home to anyone. Not anyone *like that*. And for the first time in my life, recognizing that twinged a bit. Oh halfing & potpie, you’re not chopped liver, but you know what I mean, don’t you?
Ze Photographer, a new yorker through and through, and I had a long talk last night, reminiscing and recapping on the week. He proclaimed that during a crisis like this, he just wanted to turn off the TV, have someone over, and have sex. Lots of it. Non stop. Orgasm after orgasm after orgasm. Something to shake off the cloud of anxiety, fear, anger, and depression that has been spreading like july dandilions across the landscape. Something to remind you that you are alive. Something to make you feel that you could be close, comforted, and expressively intimate with them. I laughed at him as he nagged me to get over my 2 year hump. (Ha ha) It made me think a bit about lost opportunities, my own anxieties and hang ups, and some of my outdated notions of love and romance that I cling to. “What are you waiting for? Come on…” No, that wasn’t an invitation directed at me so much as a goofy chide to stop allowing life and opportunities to pass me by when time, of late, has made her presence so palpably clear, and she’s shorter than you expected for an incarnation of immortality.
There are things that I horde for special occasions or for no other reason than I dislike the notion of waste and I consider myself unworthy during the present. Lotions, soaps, bottles of wine, scotch, matches, stacks of postcards, frilly underwear, hotel soaps, etc. Why bother? It’s so ridiculous in the grand scheme of things to be so worrisome about a potential future instead of being grounded in the present. Being mindful of the opportunity in the present. Being aware of the precision of events in the present or immediate past as opposed to recognizing patterns and chances long since lost.
*Shrug*.
Looks like time for another bubble bath.
Special Note
In Memory: Christina R. UM Class of ‘98, victim in WTC.
In other News
The salon has decided in my absence that my temporary replacement should become permanent. Ergo, I am totally out of a job. Even that crappy one. My PR client is unable to give me any projects at this time pending funding. My unemployment insurance file has been reopened and amazingly enough I still have a wee bit of cash left in my savings. Unemployed from a real job since late April. Impressive no? The european vacation was the first time I actually hit up my credit cards. I think I’m doing alright considering. Stressing about the salon is really, the *least* of things to muddle my little nut of late.
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