Tangled Up In Blue
It's a heady collection of tags: authentic experience, nyc, love, sex, friends; should be a real barn-burner of a blog.
Back in Humboldt for a week now, feeling the raw world-conquering momentum bleed away into wood smoke and the smell of fallen leaves. It's not unpleasant at all, this country home of mine -- next week will be alive with family and friends; the way I fell in love in the first place -- but today it gives me a feeling of wistful sadness.
It seems I make myself a smaller person here, or maybe it's vice-versa with the Mother City making me bigger. Much as I believe the hype about the internet flattening the world, it will always be true that different things happen in different places. It was an immense recharge, to walk again the streets of Brooklyn, to feel the quick hard snap of real subway doors, the great heaping crush of humanity, densely packed ambition and excellence. I draw power from the capital of the world.
And it's not just the women, but I won't lie: they're a big part of it. I have a no kiss-and-blog policy, but this little slice from William Gibson has stuck with me since adolescence, and pretty much nails me to a T:
But Bobby had this thing for girls, like they were his private tarot or something, the way he'd get himself moving. We never talked about it, but when it started to look like he was losing his touch that summer, he started to spend more time in the Gentleman Loser. He'd sit at a table by the open doors and watch the crowd slide by, nights when the bugs were at the neon and the air smelled of perfume and fast food. You could see his sunglasses scanning those faces as they passed, and he must have decided that Rikki's was the one he was waiting for, the wild card and the luck changer. The new one.
I'm glad to be mature enough to appreciate how things work above and beyond (as well as in and around) sex. Brilliant conversation beats mediocre fucking any day of the week, and anyway good conversation is how you scale those shining peaks of physicality. Takes time, but anticipation works. So I'm happy having a drink and catching up with an old flame, or striking up an honest new connection; not so much of an agenda, just moving on the moment. That's how all my good times have happened.
It comes in a flood though, my confidence. Once I start feeling good about myself, quit apologizing, ducking out of eye contact, it's hard not to go over the high side. Josh the Lothario is a natural groove for me; crackling with energy. "Because I can" becomes a powerful rationale: I'm a lucky guy; I can do a lot of things.
Indeed, I get a thrill having more than one love interest, and it's time I owned that, quit trying to dodge/judge myself. As the man said, the only way to foster Love in your life is by being yourself at 100%, and so I choose (now) to embrace my polyamorous free-lovin' playboy status.
But then it comes to babies, to the existential question of Settling Down. That posterized photo up there is me and Frank Edward Robbins VI, aka Freddy -- or me being a god-fatherly figure here, "Fredo" -- who I got to meet and hold in Greenpoint. A pure delight, and a clear indication of things to come.
Indeed, the first wave is on. LGD, author and progenitor of the "35 To 55" strategy will be moving to PDX in the new year to start his family. Jumped the timetable a bit -- switched to a Patraeus-like surge, he did -- but it's a happy thing. He was ready, as others are rapidly becoming.
And yeah, I'm a family man in my heart, though not yet in that state of readiness. When I moved to Humboldt I took on a sort of homesteader's outlook, putting myself through a nesting phase, but without another bird or any eggs. It was lonely, and in some ways a bit of a force, but overall a good thing for my maturation I think. I can feel the potential, the theory, a slick hot run of fortune and luck leading up to the Big Jackpot. It's a fantasy, sure, but that's what I need these days.
The question here and now is what comes next. Back in the country, my confidence wavers. The sheer logistics of my life here exert a powerful force: lots and lots of work (I am procrastinating right now, in fact) and a home 10 miles from town. The cute bartender down the hill might pour me an extra/full glass of wine and let me hang around while the waiters fold napkins and talk shop, but I can't make anything of that. I turn to a shrinking violet. Strange. Hopefully that opportunity knocks twice.
Part of me wants live in New York again, and while my next move is into the garage here in Westhaven, I know for a fact I'll be visiting NYC more often in the near future. It's a big life, and I'm a big guy; need my big city fix from time to time.
For now I want to try carrying some more of that energy along, keep some of that swagger on me out in the woods. Unshrinking. Walking tall and getting "out there" out here too.