i was reading the recent tavi gevinson interview and i teared up a little. she said, "you don't have to be special, you just have to be kind." and quoted kaufman saying, "the world needs you at the party starting real conversations, saying ‘i don’t know’ and being kind." i teared up because, essentially, this is telling me to be kind, kind, kind and i maybe not / i maybe am but only a little. it's a mentality; you imitate it and become it. it's so frightfully evident in our art, in the tiny moments that make us . . but i seem to have been told over and over and yet, still don't understand. there is a presence of a lack and i am left wondering, what does this make me?
Monday, December 9, 2013
forty percent of me is thinking of three years from now . . five, ten; the rest in constant turmoil of present things: trivial, old, new. currently, it is 1:51AM and sixteen days into christmas, twenty-one days into another year. i look back and all i remember are the many deaths and only one new love (did not bloom); foundations crashing into dissolve, people burning. we are all so ready to heal, so thankful and adamant to begin anew. "come closer, come closer," we beckon the tides. "kiss our feet." these pains will be the pains of last year and in another round of seasons, it will all be buried fertile . . so tell me it will no longer matter, tell me all of it no longer will.
think of other things:
mother and father /
boxes, tall and full /
1.0 and nearer equivalents /
lessons on humility, on kindness /
sisters and best friends /
all the tiny, precious moments pooled together . . /
patches of color /
an abundance of feelings (warm, wet, and sticky feelings)