22 December 2019

0 stray bits

EL is on a sleeper train from edinburgh to london and i'm in my flat in DC and we're talking on the phone.

i'm keenly aware that this is a world that my grandparents probably never imagined. though, also, they imagined a world of flying cars, so i guess you win some, you lose some.


i'm whining to her about how i'm not writing. because this is the sweet spot, the period of not teaching, when i should be writing.

though this is not entirely accurate, because this sweet spot where i'm not teaching is also a moment in which i should be making all the syllabi, because academic winter break isn't really a thing.

so there is that.


instead of writing, i'm reading two books a day and drinking fortnum & mason's gin and tonic tea like it's some cheap thing that's easily procurable and not something i have to wait for people to go to the uk and send back to me.

this isn't the limits of my activities. i'm also experimenting with footwear, having worn silver glitter boots to brunch.


i should be writing.

i actually want to be writing.

well, that's a bit of a lie. i do but i don't but i should because i need to, you know?

(can't you just hear the ghost of carrie bradshaw chiming in here with faux naïveté to say: i couldn't help but wonder, why are we shoulding all over ourselves?)


i was reminded the other day, over the course of a prolonged conversation about them, of how much i hate the word morsel. and yet, i also appreciate that it's a word with a certain whimsy.


i'm returning to memphis with two empty suitcases and a bag of dirty clothes.

a large suitcase with a smaller suitcase inside it, inside of which is the bag of dirty clothes.

I AM UNASHAMED. both, by my inability to navigate doing laundry in a building that has no laundry facilities and by taking my dirty laundry across state lines.

this matryoshka situation is quite literally the least and lightest baggage i have had in the last seven months/eight years.

also, given the ever-deepening of my trust issues, let's acknowledge the level of trust involved in assuming-- nay, believing!-- that my memphis closet will provide.


the other day, jmills asked how, after the last two years of upheaval and displacement and horrible shit, it feels to be settled at long last. and, while i'm not sure i'm exactly settled-- because there's that whole fact that i no longer believe in stability or that anything (aside from friendships with women) can ever endure-- i will say this: i do finally, at least for the moment, feel free. and that's a pretty fucking amazing fact. 

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