I live in a bedroom with walls covered in maps of the world that I stare at like pornography. It's low-lit and painted a warm red. My bed looks like a tent - I've always wanted to live in a tent. Somehow in some unbelievable way humans have discovered exactly why day turns into night and why the sun is sometimes bigger and we can just about predict the weather. We know which way the world turns and we know how many times it has to turn for an entire year to go by and we know that eventually entire cycles will be completed. All things work in cycles. I feel like this year is both the completion of a very complicated cycle and the beginning of a brand new cycle of which I could not possibly comprehend at this time. Almost 26 times I have been around to see the Earth revolve around the Sun and in those revolutions I have seen so much. There are a few smile lines on my face and a few ugly scars on my knuckles and legs (and a gash in my cheek from a dog bite) but I'll raise my bottle in pride for all of them.
So my bedroom. Sexy. I want piles of people for pillows and a few house plants. When I leave there will be nothing left behind except for an abandoned tent and like a gypsy in the night my steps will be untraceable. This is just how it goes. I don't mind getting older. I don't mind being alone sometimes. I don't mind being a stranger in a foreign land. I've drank the water.. don't do it. :)
I met this girl at the beginning of this past summer. What a strange summer it was. Detroit Festival of the Arts was in full effect and we were all drunk. One of those times where none of us are coordinated enough to stay together in a crowd and we often would get split up only to pass each other by later. I wander. Not long ago I had completely forgotten about this girl I met but for some reason I had a dream about her the other night. She had about eight years on me and dressed like a gypsy. Her and her friend were homeless and nomadic, following shows and festivals and hiding from cold weather. She looked like she had been tossed around a few times in her day but she wore it well. I can't remember how we met but I really enjoyed talking with her. We found a spot in the shade below a large art sculpture-thingy outside of CCS and talked all afternoon. Crazy thing happened. This man comes by looking for his wife and for a moment he found his way into our conversation. He smiled whenever he mentioned her but later would reveal that she had Alzheimer's and often she has a hard time in large gatherings of people. Shortly after chatting with us he found her and introduced her but much to her horror she looked at us as if she had no idea where she was. She looked so scared that it made me sad. They walked off and me and the gypsy girl stared at each other for what seemed like hours. I never saw her again.
It's cold at night in the loft but the view of downtown is stunning. I'll raise my bottle to the skyline and watch my breath form in the air in front of me. I gotta get off this island..
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