Tonight, I realized that I'd been living in a pile. I started making smaller piles. This process was undeniably stupid, but I felt, once I had all the wee piles, that there was no stopping until I had resolved the situation. I started examining bits and pieces that had been squirreled at one point or another. I made tea out of the decade preceding this one. The tea was a little stale and also contained a few pre-millenial bits. I dredged up a bunch of flavors that tickled and were generally so dusty that I sneezed, violently. But somewhere between when the steeping took place and the point at which the tea reached the temperature of erstwhile bathwater, I encountered two leaves, actual printed hojas from the past. I swirled my cup around, gazed in, focused my attention, then turned it over on my saucer. Having waited a couple of minutes, I lifted my glass again and began to puzzle over what was left beneath. Unlike future tea, this tea-stalgia is detailed in the extreme, and despite its surreal form and content, yields a definite emotional response. Here's what we printed:
I like these lists. They're chock full of mildly disturbing crap, and you can see us pushing one anothers' buttons, alternating entries. There is something to be said for that level of creative comfort and rapport. Our patience with one another and our shared frustrations get to play out, not simply in silent gazes or utterances bandied lazily. For some reason we formalized, we collaborated zealously, playing on the contrast between the generic simplicity of the list and the vast, fluid scope of our aspirations. What came out was rough, of course, but a fantastic artifact nonetheless, and a great indicator of the depth and breadth of boredom and desire. That's pretty much all for the moment. Hope you guys are swell.
P.S. Hey Ty, while I can imagine that this isn't high on your list of personal priorities, please make sure your state legalizes it on the second. It would be so excellent.
