(no subject)
Sometimes I forget Columbia is a mere third of a mile away from my house
all that ivory tower
fountains, columns, parapets, balustrades, brick sidewalks
the buzz of thinking and silverfish gnawing away at time-foxed pages
within walking distance
within rambling late at night when I'm trying to figure out what the hell to do with my life distance
and the grass is so manicured
hedged up, like the law of moses
inaccessible to those for whom it was purportedly planted.
But somewhere along the west walk I find a break in the shrubbery
(intentional, it is obvious)
and looking around, decide this is as good a place as any
and fall back into the thick soft mat, splayed out,
a modern Vitruvian (wo)man in floodwater Chinos and a t-shirt.
It is cooler on grass-level, softer, noisier in a different way.
I stare at the one bright-ish star/maybe-planet
(there are electric lamps ablaze all over campus, so only the most brilliant
and valiant celestial bodies remain visible)
and think for a long while.
Mostly about nothing.
Getting out does that. Keeps me out of the mess of it all,
the heartsickness, the mother's scolding communique about finances,
the worry about pigeon-holing myself into an arts career,
the wondering what is there for me somewhere south of delancy along the river,
about the sheer problem of:
WHAT AM I MEANT TO DO WITH MY LIFE?
If I just knew, then all of this would be easier.
(I could use a master of divination right now, an auger-reader,
a celestial interpreter. I could use some clarity.
I got nothing.)
I recite "Lament for the Makers" out loud to the night
straight up at the one little pinhole of light
and I wonder if God is looking down
enjoying this face time, Frank's poem.
Grappling, grappling.
Nothing.
No one.
I think i finally understood tonight people's utter fear of commitment.
I don't feel it with people,
but looking out on to two years at a job i don't even have yet
(and watch, I will not get it)
that,
THAT is terrifying.
I am not afraid to commit to others,
but to myself? To the future-of-Erin, whilst everything is so uncertain
and so many other possibly maybes exist?
you bet.
It is so hot in New York right now.
The City Too Hot.
all that ivory tower
fountains, columns, parapets, balustrades, brick sidewalks
the buzz of thinking and silverfish gnawing away at time-foxed pages
within walking distance
within rambling late at night when I'm trying to figure out what the hell to do with my life distance
and the grass is so manicured
hedged up, like the law of moses
inaccessible to those for whom it was purportedly planted.
But somewhere along the west walk I find a break in the shrubbery
(intentional, it is obvious)
and looking around, decide this is as good a place as any
and fall back into the thick soft mat, splayed out,
a modern Vitruvian (wo)man in floodwater Chinos and a t-shirt.
It is cooler on grass-level, softer, noisier in a different way.
I stare at the one bright-ish star/maybe-planet
(there are electric lamps ablaze all over campus, so only the most brilliant
and valiant celestial bodies remain visible)
and think for a long while.
Mostly about nothing.
Getting out does that. Keeps me out of the mess of it all,
the heartsickness, the mother's scolding communique about finances,
the worry about pigeon-holing myself into an arts career,
the wondering what is there for me somewhere south of delancy along the river,
about the sheer problem of:
WHAT AM I MEANT TO DO WITH MY LIFE?
If I just knew, then all of this would be easier.
(I could use a master of divination right now, an auger-reader,
a celestial interpreter. I could use some clarity.
I got nothing.)
I recite "Lament for the Makers" out loud to the night
straight up at the one little pinhole of light
and I wonder if God is looking down
enjoying this face time, Frank's poem.
Grappling, grappling.
Nothing.
No one.
I think i finally understood tonight people's utter fear of commitment.
I don't feel it with people,
but looking out on to two years at a job i don't even have yet
(and watch, I will not get it)
that,
THAT is terrifying.
I am not afraid to commit to others,
but to myself? To the future-of-Erin, whilst everything is so uncertain
and so many other possibly maybes exist?
you bet.
It is so hot in New York right now.
The City Too Hot.