(no subject)
Woke up at five, and I won't go through all the mind-racing: it was all fairly ridiculous early-morning paranoia.
As I decided it would be okay that I wouldn’t sleep longer and the light grew I began to calm down. I spent an hour looking for a good passage to send Griffin as a thank you for sending me the link to the Frank O’Hara article. I ended up picking something, not quite eight in the morning, that could be construed as a love letter. But I didn’t care; I was so inspired by the easy queerness of his generosity that I wanted to reply in kind, even if it might not work on his end. Wouldn’t that have a Derridean beauty anyways: I already know it works because it so likely won’t; my phone call won’t get through, my letter will get lost. I picked a joyous passage about how we all love you and are invigorated by you even though, and maybe because, you are running off to get married. A crazy thing to send him, no doubt, but no crazier than that autumn night in 2006 when he stopped me in a wind storm to rave and rant at me for fifteen minutes out of the blue.
That done, I began to feel more and more elated, a song of myself in a sunny little apartment on a sunny morning. “I have an insane amount of things to do, and I don’t know how to do it all!” I thought to myself, but it felt like a song.
As I decided it would be okay that I wouldn’t sleep longer and the light grew I began to calm down. I spent an hour looking for a good passage to send Griffin as a thank you for sending me the link to the Frank O’Hara article. I ended up picking something, not quite eight in the morning, that could be construed as a love letter. But I didn’t care; I was so inspired by the easy queerness of his generosity that I wanted to reply in kind, even if it might not work on his end. Wouldn’t that have a Derridean beauty anyways: I already know it works because it so likely won’t; my phone call won’t get through, my letter will get lost. I picked a joyous passage about how we all love you and are invigorated by you even though, and maybe because, you are running off to get married. A crazy thing to send him, no doubt, but no crazier than that autumn night in 2006 when he stopped me in a wind storm to rave and rant at me for fifteen minutes out of the blue.
That done, I began to feel more and more elated, a song of myself in a sunny little apartment on a sunny morning. “I have an insane amount of things to do, and I don’t know how to do it all!” I thought to myself, but it felt like a song.