Lately, I feel really ugly and don't like spending much time with people in face to face interactions. I don't make eye contact when I am with people. I try not to stand to close to them, and I shy away when I think people are looking closely at me, avert my head, fiddle with something. This is because my acne is "severe" and because I am aware of this and am going to see the dermatologist on Monday, and so because I hope to soon have this problem alleviated somewhat, right now, the current condition seems even more noticable, more unbearable, with some hoped for future looming, placing the current state in a stark contrast.
And tonight, perhaps because of this reason, perhaps because of others, I felt entirely comfortable in the dark night, wandering the streets of Williamsburg and Greenpoint. The streets were empty, all mine. There were sublime cloud formations moving quickly past the half full moon, or perhaps, in this condition, the half empty moon. And it reminded me of nights at the beach in Florida, how majestic the night sky looked over the ocean, how it appeared to be as just as large, if not more so, and so tonight I looked at this expansive sky that I had forgotten about, realized that I had forgotten how expansive this land is, these oceans are underneath it. That I have become very self-involved with this city and myself, and forgot how expansive it all is, how vast.
There is a very distinct thrill that is obtained by wandering Brooklyn streets at night alone, streets that are deserted, some that are competely dark, and having to check over your shoulder every once and a while just to make sure that whatever you hope is not there is not there. Then you can breathe out into the crisp night air and know that you are alone. Lonely, lonely, and best so. As WCW would say.
There is this passage in David Wojnarowicz's Close to the Knives, which I am reading right now, and which is quite excellent by the way - at work, on days when I show up, I am reading his diaries, In the Shadow of the American Dream, which are also really good, perhaps better, just because they are diaries and they have me excited about ways to enliven and experience life through the method of journal writing, giving things more meaning that way, infusing your life with poetry, and I will talk more about his diaries as I read more of them, but to the quote: "In loving him, I saw great hosues being erected that would soon slide into the waiting and stirring seas. I saw him freeing me from the silences of the interior life." (17)
That passage really struck me for its tenderness when I read it earlier this evening, that yes, that is what good sex is sometimes. However tonight, the night, its darkness allowed me to embrace the silences of the interior life, not having to worry about lights, and my bathroom mirror, and what other people are thinking. It was so liberating, and perhaps that was the reason I took the walk, to think. I have recently taken a few long walks at night, and tonight, thinking over the habit, I realized that it is exactly what my mother does. My mom is a pretty restless woman and cannot really sit around the house, cannot engage with other people very intimately, and she is always taking walks at night, long walks, and asking other people if they want to go. And lately, I am coming to realize how indeed lovely circutious walks without any destination are. It felt so good to breathe in that cold air, winter is not yet gone, to walk past houses in my neighborhood, seeing the Easter decorations put up on the houses on Hope Street, familiarizing myself with my surrounding area.
Before I took a walk, I got a call from this boy Chris. Chris is this really hot boy who djs at Metropolitian on Thursdays, and he wanted to know what I was doing tonight. I am not sure if it was just a friendly invite or if there was more to it. I told them that I wasn't going to go out but that I would call him in the future. I did not go out because I am broke and feeling outrageously insecure today. But the friendly attention that I have gotten in the past week makes me happy, and seems really odd, especially at this moment when I am probably the most ashamed/disgusted with my appearance since probably 10th grade, and man, 10th grade was a rough time as I am sure many of you know. I am currently going through a similar experience of self-defeating thoughts and behaviour that I am far too experienced and intelligent to engage in, but yet, which I still do nonetheless.
I have to go into work early tomorrow to pick up some extra hours since I called in sick today and have no sick days left and was going to try to pay my rent with this week's paycheck. I have to find a new job ASAP. My goal is to quit between May 7 (when I will have been there for a year and can collect two weeks vacation pay) and June 12 (my birthday, and if I am still working in a retail job at the age of 23, I will break down and cry). Or maybe I can get fired and collect unemployment. I did get stuff accomplished today. I cleaned dishes, finally found someone with a copy of my tax forms from the Best Western which were mailed out this afternoon, made a dentist appointment, looked for some jobs (did not apply yet), and read lots of Wojnarowicz.