13 December 2012

0 nets (nov 1/dec 12)


this gets easier. as it gets harder.

life.

let's be honest. i'm drinking a lot of wine. and gin. and 312. 

because this is hard.

leaving. loss.

chicago had the most beautiful sunset ever tonight. i took pictures. like a tourist.

and i wanted to tell that sunset to go to hell. because that was a bold move. bringing out the best sunset ever eight days before i leave chicago for the next to the last time.

chicago is my home. chicago is the only place that, in 31 years, i have ever felt at home. i chose this.

in contrast, whatever it is i am moving towards- jackie, london, etc.- it chose me.

(btw, fyi, k.lo + 2 1/2 martinis + mac and cheese = home.)

i leave chicago for the next to the last time in eight days.

EIGHT DAYS.

that is nothing. and it is everything.

the philosopher says, "i can't imagine you not being there."

he's in the chicago airport on his way to belgium. i am 3 1/2 miles away in chicago, preparing to move to london. he cannot imagine me not being in chicago and he says this and i want to curse him for having said it almost as  much as i want to thank him for putting words to what i cannot say. what i don't dare say.

how can i leave chicago?

i don't even like london. i told him as much in paris. as we were walking down rue de _____ in paris this past summer, when the philosopher spoke blasphemy and said paris was a lot like london. i said it wasn't. a statement followed up by this statement: "so, hey, i hate london. it's so inferior to paris. all of which is ironic, given that i'm contemplating applying to this phd program there."

i asked him not to hold me to that.

he said he wouldn't.

hearing him say that, i know i would do it.

hearing him say that, i knew it was a done deal.

i knew i would not have told him it was a possibility if i hadn't already decided to do it. in the line at the airport check-in the following morning, i told debo, "i think i'm going to go for this."

because it was unexpected.

because it was an adventure.

because it was something i'd always wanted to do.

because it was something i thought i couldn't do.

because debo thought i could. from the very beginning.

because i knew, from the beginning, that it was what i'd been waiting for, poised for since coming to chicago seven years ago.

this is it. though i do not yet know why.

but i believe in god. and mysteries. and mysteries that, ultimately, make sense.

this is a mystery that will, dear my dear fucking holy god, one day make sense.

and so i am moving to london. i am entering a phd program. the one thing i told a random dude in a bar i would never ever do, the day before i received the email about this phd program.

timing is everything.

timing, and mystery.

night before last, at the naked lady bar, the dane looked me in the eye and said, "you're so brave," and i said, "god, no, i'm a coward."

because this isn't bravery. please do not mistake it for that. for lack of any word that will quite do it justice, it's faith.

KBG is the only person who regularly refers to be my first name. her card came the other day and i cannot overstate the impact of seeing it written there on the page. that name that feels so foreign, even though it's mine. even thought it's me.

FAITH.

one by one the nets are being removed. my apartment, my job, my cat, my shoes, my friends.

what i'm going to wind up with is god and jackie and two suitcases and a student visa.

what it comes down to is that idea KBG and i emblazoned on a posterboard way back in spring 2001:

"the natural condition is one of insurmountable obstacles on the road to imminent disaster... strangely enough it all works out in the end... it's a mystery."

and so we can jump. with the assurance that it will work out. that it will not end in our doom. that we will survive the leap. no matter how uncomfortable, how awkward, how lonely, how daunting.

we will move forward and we will survive.

a brief reminder...

here's how you fly on a trapeze:

you climb a freakishly skinny ladder.
you get buckled into a harness.
you stand at the edge of a platform.
you grip a bar with your two hands.
you bend your two knees.
you take one hop into nothingness.
you swing through the air.
you put your knees back over the bar.
you let go.



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