Things are out of my hands.
I was telling my sister my advice for a mutual friend who is going to be flying for the first time and is really nervous about it. I fly, well, a bit. I’ve probably flown 20-25 times, I’d say. Trans-Atlantically, etc. So I guess I’m something of an expert. But I haven’t really gotten all that better at relaxing and enjoying flying. I just want to arrive somewhere very far away for a purpose that I care about so I know that I will go through the motions of flying. That I don’t relax, I don’t really calm down about it, I don’t really deal any better with in than the first run. I just accept that I have to do it. You can’t get to Italy on a jalopy. And so you have to pay for your ticket and assume that the pilot isn’t drunk or crazed or that he and the co-pilot aren’t going to fuck off and start giggling to one another and forget to fly the plane. You have to assume that things, generally, are going to be okay. Even if the only way you can get yourself on the plane and off it again, is to grit your teeth and clench your sphincter and mutter and smite yourself. You can only do that if there’s some rational piece of you that believes the odds are good enough that you won’t die to try.
So, on the basis of that advice, I had to send my letter off to the…I don’t know, the guy. I think I got the tone right as far as what *I* wanted. Whether or not it feeds this shared feeling or dumps water on it, that’s the thing I have no say about. I was actually a bit syrupy, I think. Or on the edge of it. A bit effusive. A bit goddamned Charlotte Lucas about the whole thing, a bit Pollyanna. I don’t want to take it back and send a defeatist missive that implies that all we’ll ever be is two voices on the page, but at the same time, I don’t want to look like…well, whatever it is that girl who doesn’t say no looks like. (mostly just a girl, but I got a lotta shit in this area to work through.)
I was honest-ish. Honest-er than I like to be, really, and I’m sure someday, regardless of the outcome I’ll look back at these entries and wonder at how I assume at every turn that I’m about to be dumped out of the wheelbarrow of mutual attraction with extreme prejudice and it’s fine. It’s just fine. Who knows, though, if the mind meld extends or frays further.
“Relationships” are hard.
Okay, there were a lot of other things than that to speak of today. I went and saw Roomful of Teeth which I would talk about if I could explain it at all. It’s acapella music and sound-making which becomes music. I listened to old women trying to understand it by mumbling to one another.
More tomorrow, I guess!