I didn't want to talk about love. I wanted this to be a show promotion. For my 15 minute stand-up residency tonight at Rise N Grind cafe in Hollywood. I told myself I would limit my internet posts today to this show promotion only. And that I'd get my real writing done. Yeah but so what i fell in love. It happened quick. Then she had to leave. She returns for a bit. Then she has to leave. She's young. I'm youngish. We all become ageless when we die.
I'm alone sweating in my kitchen. When you live alone you have to take full responsibility for the way your kitchen smells. The smell, it's on you. It is you. Also there's nothing like falling in love to remind you of how alone you really were. And there's nothing like falling in love to remind you of how alone you really are. And there's nothing like falling to in love to remind us of how alone we're going to become. Us doesn't exist, even as we band together heroically as wound fibers in the threads of time.
And the thing was you get used to being alone. It hurts at first. It hurts at times. But that hurt strengthens you and with the right attitude gives you more strength. And every time I get to a certain level of strength life comes by and it feasts. Sometimes it uses anguish. If we're lucky it uses its greatest tool, love. Love returns our strength to the nature from whence it came. Love drains us of our sweet sap. And we are grateful to be drained. The rush of making love. The rush of being intensely understood for moments at a time. The way we slide intellectually back and forth like drunken figure skaters haphazardly coordinating ourselves. The rush of watching her get into my car and noticing her freckles in the sunlight then driving up north to a cabin in the woods laughing like well fed bandits.
We stopped at McDonalds to pee. I knew I was in love cuz I found the McDonalds on the side of the 101 utterly beautiful. Only love can make McDonalds anything but ugly to me.
Yeah so she is gone and I am here and we continue exploring our own lives. Yeah so it is what it is. We say "it is what it is" when we've run out of words but aren't giving up. And it's insane but it's her. Yes, I'm still floored at the sight and sound of women. The young hip Echo Park butch lesbians who want nothing to do with me. The latina checkers at the grocery store who ask me about my tennis game. The kind ones nice enough to give me the time of day on drunken nights. And the ones I make up in my head. No, they don't navigate my imagination in the same way anymore. They dead end. And to them I am the same. She's now the combination and map to a maze I forgot exists. It's to me. To me, I know that means nothing to anyone else. I just mean to me. The unique arrangements of numbers and circumstances and coincidences like the first night we met where I asked her where she wanted to meet for pizza before seeing a movie and, not knowing where i lived, of all in the city she chose the place across the street from my apartment. Her visions. Her ideas. What she teaches me about the things she's interested in. The way she flipped off left field of Dodger Stadium then took a picture of it.
Now, by combining all kinds of things in my life it feels like I'm thrashing in water to stay afloat instead of with her, where it's just floating. I just walked around an artificial lake. I suppose that's my analogy from it. I am a pedal boat. A jogger gave me a high five, I thought it was for thinking of her but then realized we both were wearing shirts with L.A. sports teams on them.
She says I dream about you. I say I can't sleep thinking about you. She says I love you. I say I love you too. Cuz be brave, why not. It's all gonna hurt anyway if we're lucky enough to feel it.
*the font on this post will be fucked if viewed cuz on a computer cuz it always is when i copy paste on here and i dont feel like re-transcribing it
