Hands.
I’ve been a little aloof to the truth lately — but it appears as though I have two hands.
Maybe it’s because I’ve been trying to undress the sky with my eyes for the past month. Seeing if there’s any way to convince the winter to get off the roof and up the Hudson.
There is an uncontrollable impatience that always coincides with the end of the cold season, unfortunately coupled with the fact that I’ve lost the ability to take away all my privileges.
That’s where it’s at. I, as a solitary gentleman, have no boundaries in my life other than the ones I impose. If I want to repeat the word “snack” for hours in a million different terrible accents, I’m fully authorized to do so. If I must wedge my mattress in the doorway to see what it’s like to sleep like a taco, there is no one here to stop me.
And then two hands appear. They counter the weight of the wind when I drive. They keep me balanced on the vertiginous subway platform and the opposing cliff faces. Suddenly, everything starts appearing with an overbearing, literal sense of duality. As if other decent people and semi-decent choices are just as necessary and plain to see as my hands.
I’ve been sick lately. A gnawing fever and lightheadedness, an anxiety that itches under my skin. A lingering, see-through out-of-body experience.
On the one hand, I want to continue to write and make music. On the other, I have to find more solid ways of making it work. Or move on. (Which is cool. I would love to one day just stop and listen.)
On the one, I want to make spirits — liquors sourced from local farms. On the other, I’m considering quitting drinking.
On the one hand, distraction gives the mind a break. Libations! Celebrations! Vacations! On the other, life is too short to waste on any more distractions.
The only trite and true place where I know I can have it all is through being both honest with myself and devoted to the good people around me.
*** You are fully allowed to find the fatuousness in anything you read here. The only stipulation is that you watch how you disgorge your dislike.
Because this spring, I’m bringing politeness back.
With a vengeance.