I'm in the office, sort of drowning in boredom. I try to stay under the bosses radar so I don't have to make a presentation on all the shit that I haven't been doing this week. Part of the problem is that I'm living in fantasy land, longing for NY. I have such visions in that city that neither reflect the reality of what's going on there, nor the growth that Shanghai and Los Angeles have or will give to me. In NY, I'll fall in love, move into a townhouse in Harlem, and work for the most prestigious and inspiriting studio that the world has to offer. I'll eat the greatest foods in the world, have the best friends, shop at the finest stores, and wear the cutest clothes. I"ll have the prettiest skin, the longest hair, and the whitest teeth. My wallet will be explodingly full. I'll frolic off to my grandfather's house and share tales of our life's adventures. I'll sell my car, and ride the glorious subway, which I never have to wait on the platform for, and even when I do, I'll have a copy of the New York Times to keep me company. I"ll have lunch dates and dinner dates. I'll dance the night away and take taxi cabs everywhere. I will laugh and cause a fuss, but I'll have friends that enjoy all the fusses that I cause. We'll get loud and quiet there, sit in small apartments and drink gallons of wine. We'll smoke cigarettes and my asthma will bother me in the morning, but I'll be glad for the conversations that we shared about the most exceptional topics in the world. Oh how I long for that city...however fantastic my imagination may be. Los Angeles in all her sprawling suburban/urban smut does not tickle me the way that I like to be touched. What am I doing I ask myself? Is everything that I"m looking for locked away in NY city just waiting for me to come pluck it up? Of course not...I know know know this is true. I know that for a whole gang of reasons that I'm destined to Los Angeles, just like I was bound for Shanghai. My little tiny hobo brain has received royal treatment that I couldn't fathom two years ago. My feelers are on, and everyday I see signs from the great celestial sky wooing me into moving back the the grandest New York City. It's all richly insane, fat with female boredom and over thinking. My own mind divided. I long for that city, and yet the greater part of me, the insanely devoted part of me-the pious maniac in me-knows that whatever aching that I feel in LA will soon melt into the kind of greatness that I felt in Shanghai. Another city, another moment, more for my miniature brain to grow with, and soon soon, soon, or eventually...hopefully, fingers crossed...makes the kind of sense that makes me think...oh yeah, I did that to myself, because look at where I am. Mmmm, everything conventional, through the most elaborate means.
True Love. Heavily