I saw Odetta sing a song tonight in the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. Had traveled up there, 110th and Amsterdam, to go to some event about nonviolence and a Philip Glass opera. Glass played some selections from the opera. I was too stoned for the event and it made me feel weird in perhaps not the most pleasurable way, though it was pleasurable to look up at the massively tall structure of the cathedral and to have beautiful thoughts inspired by this architecture, about man, us little things, and the massive thing that this world is, that God is, that life is, and that looking up to a ceiling, a really tall one that so much work went into, that this brings that rarely grasped truth to the front of our minds, that there are so much larger things than these small thoughts in our heads and things far beyond our narrow field of vision, our myopia.
After the music ended and while the talking was still occurring, Gabriel and I left, walked through Central Park around the reservoir, the city, its skyline, looking so beautiful standing tall over the side of the big body of water, the theme of space and grandiosity again revisited, the sky looking large at moments, not looking large, it always being large and all, but being in a spot where I could be aware of that largeness, glimpse it.
I don't know how to say what it is I want. I used to be able to say it and maybe there are reasons I can't say it, maybe good reasons, but I want magic and more time and the time that I do have to be spent better. I want to not care about things and to care about other things and to be more sure, more comfortable, with those lines, or maybe just better at holding to them.
Walking around that reservoir, the wind was blowing, making the water lap against itself, arrhythmic sounds of liquid touching liquid, something safe being felt with the noise, perhaps developed in the womb, maybe something even more early, the pleasure felt in the sound of water against a shore.
I slept with this boy last night, Matt, and it was because I was horny, because he is nice, cute, because we had already slept together (kind of (it being interrupted by him being attacked by bed bugs)), and also because I had run into Diego last night at Sugarland and for reasons specific and non-specific, the encounter, a brief hello, made me feel unhappy. I want a romance or something with magic and there are moments, more and more often now, where I realize that that is not going to happen with him. Despite not wanting to feel slighted, I was a bit annoyed that he didn't tell me he was back in town or that he was going out to a bar in Brooklyn. I want something closer or more distant, something I understand. So I am not sure there is any more reason to keep this thing going, that it might be preventing me from being open to other things, potentially magical things.
I have been having a lovely string of days lately, this warm weather, spring finally here, blossoms on trees, their flowering allowing my own to occur, my own ebullience and optimism and recharged feelings. I saw Missy Elliot and Busta Rhymes perform earlier in the week and that was an interesting experience, both of them a bit aged now, probably a bit past their prime, but both still really amazing stage presences. Busta was particularly amazing to see, his energy still really intense and his fast delivery where he somehow doesn't need to pause for breath quite impressive. A couple of days ago, I saw Gypsy with Patti Lupone playing Mama Rose, and that was really great, was a really lovely theater experience, the type I haven't had in a while, getting giddy throughout the play, feeling so excited, the songs good, the performers great, and the story amazing, dealing with celebrity and stage moms and America and life and art in a really intelligent way. Lupone was amazing, as was the actress who played Gypsy Rose. Both were so fantastic, giving me goosebumps when they sang sometimes. I watched the Sixth Season of Curb Your Enthusiasm, which made me laugh a lot and which also provoked thinking about so many issues, and about which I intend to say more in a more intelligent, more detailed fashion in the coming days, Larry David being a genius to me, and this show still, even in this late season, still such an amazing work of art, doing really clever things within the half hour confines of a sitcom.
And so things have been good as of late. What is there not to love? The weather is fantastic, I can listen to probably any song I would want to at any time, technology being what it is, I am seeing great things, I am occasionally having sex, though maybe not the most satisfying type, and maybe am having it, or trying to, in the actual hopes of having something else, feeling something else, feeling, I am excited about reading again - and yet. More should be being done. I am going to hop in bed soon and read and wake up early, am going to get into the habit of waking up early, doing things that need to be done, working for it. There is desire and I am trying to heat it, bring it to a boil.