Monday, October 26

Two Things

‘I FEEL YOU’RE SAD and lonely, and I imagine that’s an awful two things to be.’ The words have not yet escaped me. Even when I am not meaning to, even when I am minding my own business, I recall that someone has perceived me as sad and lonely. It would be better for me to forget such a remark, yet I cannot. I do not need for someone to tell me I am sad and lonely. During the week I received a postcard and a book from a friend, someone who has always championed my work. In her scratched and distinguishable handwriting, she said—‘GODDAMNIT R—S! Wish I could fucking be a witch (lifetime dream but still) and make you a bit happy.’ All this talk that I am sad and lonely, an unhappy beast at the bottom of a well! I think of these comments, and stew. If I think, then I am unhappy, I am sad; if I am alone, I am not necessarily lonely. Much of my time can be spent alone, and it is not uncommon for me to endure whole weekends without speaking to a single soul. Loneliness is such a word. Of all, I think I am missing love. I do not crave people – for I can take or leave them – but love, I do miss. To have love again would be such a gift. Maybe it is that which makes me sad and lonely.
Love is a ridiculous word. I do not like it because it is only four letters long, and two of those are unimpressive vowels. Although, how brief are the laws of the universe! If love is laws of the universe then quanta are in-jokes, black holes fucking, the electromagnetic field is lounging on a sofa together, and the speed of light is the ability of someone to make you feel nothing but joy. I am no physicist, although at times I have attempted to impersonate a poet. Hmm, yes, I am sad and lonely, unhappy; blazing my Sunday night away in a daydream of inconsequential longing. Okay, then, I am lonely; it is so, and nothing else.
This beautiful city of mine lay modestly behind a veil of fine rain so that every building in my view was dimmer and sleepily indistinguishable from the night. Yes, I am sad, yes, I am lonely; I admit it. If there is no shame in it, then allow me to continue. Love evades and taunts me. Love walks past the cafĂ© in which I hunch over a toastie; love holding each other around the waist, walking in ways I can’t imagine without tripping, smiling, love ignoring exhaust fumes, love giggling, having laughter for lunch, love everywhere and green.

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