for my heart.
It is frightening or surreal, I have not been able to ascertain which, how unmoved I am by what is going on. The truth that this terrifying clown has the whole world in the palm of his stubby-fingered hand is too much a treatment for a bad TV not-quite comedy not to be tossed out the window, except that it would doubtless land on somebody, somebody being all of us.
My desk is an unmeasured pile of litter, all the things I was planning to organize before the leaving, not being able to sort out when I was going, not knowing for what, if anything is there, if the heat of California would be worse for me than the absence of true human contact, besides the one or two seemingly loving presences I have found in New York, apart from the doormen, whose affection you can no longer measure as genuine at Christmas. I just experienced the closest I have come to orgasm in decades at finding my passport in the litter on my desktop. I am so ashamed of what I have become, dull, fearful, productive of nothing. I was never afraid of age, not realizing how quickly, suddenly, and unmarkedly it could hit you, not realizing what a Strong-y you assumed you were. I would write about it to share and soothe all the others experiencing this shit, except I'm afraid that halfway through I would forget what I was writing, and reading it over, would wonder why. Just received a brilliant e-mail(yes, Virginia, they do come in scattered time) from a longtime brilliant (right, who am I to judge?) buddy who continues to send the long, well-thought-out e-mail, perhaps not realizing how over those are, being emotionally secure enough not to care, or even measure. It is such a strange time to be still seeking, and either brave or stupid enough to care. Especially if you think the whole thing comes with a solution. We'll find out. Or not.
I like best, of course, the idea that it is all part of a Russian plot, as that makes us less stupid than we seem, more of an Agatha Christie than unthinkable, except who really understood her anyway. Life, she am a puzzle. Especially when from time to time you have been happy with/in her. Usually when you were dancing. At least in your heart.
