This city’s getting shaky again, changing. It’s becoming unfamiliar and I’m re-drawing the mental maps once more. too many relationships within it, I’ve never had to negotiate so many different ways of being in one place at the same time. Each day brings something new, knowledge layers one over the other. The actual concrete space getting lost underneath all these pushpinned notes.
New landmarks too. It’s exciting, the way the city’s changing, but with all these new points of reference I’m getting disoriented. It’s important to note that I have never, in my entire life, spent so much time in one place. It makes me wonder how others manage to deal with living in one place their entire lives. Are cities ever able to become constant? I doubt I’ll ever find that out.
Now that I know what’s going on, my body’s telling me to leave. I can’t right now, I’ve begun something I have every intention of finishing and that will take me years. Bring me neatly up to a decade. And time has this way of messing up any plans I try to make, so I’m not making any preparations to go. When it’s time to bounce, it’s time. But that’s not any time soon.
As the city’s changing, it’s becoming more blurry, disintegrating. I almost feel like I have to dodge the concrete blocks falling down from this disintegrating landscape. I’m trying to block it, not pay attention, I have to focus on other things, on new endeavours, on existing in different planes at the same time. Harder than hard. Part of me is watching this though, observing the complete annihilation of what I thought I knew, trying to record it for posterity. Time for a critical reading of this city and what I do within it. My home’s my haven and I’m withdrawing into it, window-watching and trying not to interfere with the city’s re-invention. Learning to let the city be.
Re-discovering stimulating conversation and being reminded of why I have the people in my life that I do. Conversations with friends this week have me learning about gender and race politics, notions of privacy, quantum physics, creative process, ownership and rights, and of course music. I’ve been learning more about the people around me, in awe of the sheer brilliance of those in my circle.
i’m writing postcard stories for you and you and maybe you. i’m back writing vignettes, my apologies to those i hurt with the last series. sunflower, believe me, that poem wasn’t about you. in other news, i’ve outgrown the guardian. more honestly, it was always unnecessary, the universe’s way of letting me know by giving me what i asked for. need to disentangle before it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy an enmeshment. but the as-yet-undiscovered power of a particular totem hasn’t faded and once again, i have to wait for the big reveal. take two of these and call me in the morning.
Title reference: Hot Night, Meshell Ndegeocello, 2002.