a warm Leathetette then lay your hands on me and The Gap, Battle Flag do you think I’m sexy Bad Kingdom? Well, Get Black and chill with The Ubiquitous Mr. Lovegrove.
Revisiting this as my life way.
“… Having no particular home, but equally at home everywhere. For this is the secret of successful sauntering.”
Walking - Atlantic Mobile http://m.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/1862/06/walking/304674/
A freedom which is interested only in denying freedom must be denied. And it is not true that the recognition of the freedom of others limits my own freedom: to be free is not to have the power to do anything you like; it is to be able to surpass the given toward an open future; the existence of others as a freedom defines my situation and is even the condition of my own freedom. I am oppressed if I am thrown into prison, but not if I am kept from throwing my neighbor into prison.
Simone de Beauvoir, The Ethics of Ambiguity
—See Through Blue
People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.
A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave.
A soul mate’s purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life…
Elizabeth Gilbert in Eat, Pray, Love
Song: “See Through Blue” by Beth Orton
Yes, yes, yes, yes. I’ve been blessed with four so far. Staying hopeful and open, receptive for another might just be this life’s greatest, most worthy labor. Our labor of love.
Horrible sneeze day.
Steve, the Taxi Angel.
(FOUND PHONE IN THE BACK SEAT, WHAT? LET’S FIGURE IT OUT!)
Steve: I just dropped them of in Morton Grove.
Me: You better charge them for extra fare.
Steve: I will.
(In the meantime, Steve was asking about my manicure and pedicure. And, about my Canadian friend, Giulia. I showed Steve my fingers, but not my toes. Honestly, Steve is a little pervy.)
We get to my place. Steve knows where I live. I offer the cash I have. Steve refuses.
I hope Steve returns the phone and I hope Steve is around the next time I’m wondering the streets of Evanston at midnight.
People in my neighborhood Steve is a good one.
I’m walking home from the grocery store.
I see Steve in his taxi passing-by going the opposite direction.
Steve sees me. He flips a U-turn. Pulls up to my curb.
Me: “Steve you are my angel! Take me home! I’ve gotta take a piss!”
Steve: “Get in baby.”
Me: “Steve, you are a champ.”
Steve calls me Adriana, or something similar that begins with an A.
I say, “It’s GNA. And hurry Steve.”
Steve: “Don’t take a piss GNA. HOLD ON! I WILL GET YOU HOME!”
(Insert six blocks of banter about where-have-you-been and my Canadian friends. Good ole Steve. One-track mind.)
Pulling up in front of my building Steve says, “Don’t worry about it (the fare).”
I toss a crumpled $5 at Steve and ask, with one foot out the door, “Is that enough?”
Steve: “Go. Don’t piss. Run!”
Me: “Thanks Steve. You’re an angel.”
Steve: “You’re an angel, GNA. I love you.”
I kinda love Steve too. He is a person in my neighborhood. That’s pretty nest.
Any effort that doesn’t work without us being there isn’t really, truly working.
Patio lights chatting fine with mosquitos.
Teen men skaters grind by outside.
Canadian Netflix keep my light on.
"Thanks for noticing me and sending me a message. I’m certain you are a decent fellow; however, I’m not the gal for you. Good luck finding her!"
[Online daters: Feel free to use this text because, by my experience, it is met with kindness and courtesy.]
As a letter writer, writing a letter, at the perfect time, is choice. It is a golden moment… in my mind and so on.
All letters are all ways love letters.
"You’re in post-production before you know it. The reality is that I don’t fucking know this person."
I say: Basically why I’ve never had a long-term relationship with a woman. Because the women who want me want a “man” without a dick. And that’s not me, on all accounts. (Roles, stereotypes, culture, all in play. You figure it out.)
“@audiosmut: “Did I make it all up? Maybe she was never into it.” http://t.co/ocbnJvVBFP #MoviesInYourHead”
"Awesome plans this weekend?" asked my colleagues with raised eyebrows of hope. "No. I don’t have any Friends here like that yet." "Every time you say that, I feel sad."