I can write. Quality and relevance can be questionable but I have no reason to be modest or immodest (can never remember the difference) about my easy grandiloquence and loquaciousness.
Most of what I’ve written the past years has been in personal correspondence, where I feel I am at my strongest.
But I’ve come to think it is about space. Where am I when I can write the best?
It is not at home. I should have recognized that long ago. I have a good apartment but it has become a garage in which my head is parked.
I think about moving. With this job, given how little it pays, I could qualify for so-called “affordable” housing. I don’t know, though. Moving is an epic chore, and mentally exhausting even to simply contemplate. I discovered this a few years back when the landlord offered me the apartment across the hall for the same rent.
He later reneged on that “same rent” promise, as I expected. He invented a phantom “business partner in Greece” who would not allow this to happen without a significant increase. So why did he even bother making the offer? I don’t know.
But I took it seriously enough that I looked at the place. I was relieved to find that I just didn’t like it. It was awkwardly laid out and the Manhattan view was a joke.
All this was enough to raise my anxiety levels to the rafters. Moving anywhere, even 25 feet away, felt like an epic maneuver. I am not wired like other people, for moving to a new place every year or 2.
Maybe I should rewire myself for that. I would know more, be more. I consumed way too much coffee this day. What the hell is with me, I have not consumed daytime coffee in a long time.
I walked around the block, so to speak, to start this lunch hour. To Church Street, past the Oculus and Trade Center. I thought I hated the new WTC but I’ve come to appreciate it as I see it up close most days. More stately and bold than I was willing to allow.
I probably have to shit far more righteously than I am letting myself believe. Uneasy about shitting at the office. Don’t know why I should be but it’s what it is.
I got my lunch at Jubilee on John Street.
