8.20.2012

The M Knickerbocker.

They closed my train stop.

I suppose I should be thankful that my train still runs, but it's hard when the only thing I really like about my apartment is it's proximity to a train stop that is now boarded up.

But this summer has been great! I've worked, worked, worked and ran about town in short dresses and sandals and indulged in daylight beers and patio wine and I have dug my toes into the sand at Rockaway. I've slept in the lap of a beautiful boy on a long, long bus ride and walked the length of downtown-hometown un-showered on a sunny morning. I've had out of town visitors at least three times a month, and they're still coming. I've gained some weight. I have laughed uncontrollably. I've come home late and rose early and laid about in sunbeams and slept silently alone and shared my bed, my new bed, both platonically and amorously. Now Labor Day is approaching furiously fast and I think about this often when I'm making the now long walk from my train, about what there is left to do in these last few days of summer.

I think about a lot of things on that walk down Myrtle Ave.

How would an up-tempo jazz version of Fuck the Pain Away sound? You know, like accompanied by a really twinkly guitar and an audible smile in the vocal. Maybe people will be able to buy tickets into space in my lifetime, just like a plane ticket. You know, like a normal thing. So they wouldn't cost a million dollars. Why is it that almost nothing embarrasses me but I am easily shamed by the smallest of indiscretions? Would people just totally freak the fuck out if I showed up at a bar one day wearing, like, lavender or yellow or something? Would anyone even notice? Are my arms really that awesome? They look like arms to me. What size panties do I wear? Panties have sizes, right? Dude, I could really use some Cake right now. Also, I get less and less opposed to the word 'panties' as I get older. I still can't really say the word 'pussy'. I've always been that person that prefers the word 'vagina'. I wonder what happened to my old passport, the one I lost that's filled with stamps. I hate my passport picture. I want to go to the beach on Tuesday. I want to lay on the beach off 13th back home and then go to The Deuce when the sun dips toward the bay. Wait, what was that thing about shame?

Shame turns so easily into secrecy which is why I swore off secrets on New Years Day, 2004. That doesn't mean that I have never kept a secret since then, but rather that I haven't kept a secret guiltlessly since then, and I have almost never done it unless someone else asked me to. Or because I assumed someone else wanted me to.

I'm obviously keeping some secrets these days, I mean, I haven't posted here in almost two weeks. If you are reading this then there are huge portions of what it means to be me these days that you don't know, and it's killing me because I said I wouldn't do this anymore. But here I am, keeping secrets from everybody I said I wouldn't keep secrets from. Namely everybody. 

But it's summer, you guys. I needed a break from all of you. I just needed a couple of weeks to wrap my head around not being here all winter and what I'm setting myself up to gain and what I'm setting myself up to lose. I'm about to lose a lot. But I'm used to that. Maybe that's why I feel so very much like regular old me these days: scanning the calendar for flights, about to get rid of everything I own, fantasizing about the day that is not to far from now when I'll shove some panties in a backpack and give my passport a little exercise.

I'm telling you that yes, I'll be leaving this winter, and for a few months I'll be leaving New York to those people who chose to winter in it, because I do not.

And yes, I'm thinking about a bit more on that walk home from the train than Peaches and beaches and how closely my arms approximate Michelle Obama's. There are secrets, giant secrets that I'm afraid to tell should my plans fall through, and naked secrets that adorn my bed and drink my coffee in the morning.

But since my toes have gone untouched for over a week, the truth is, I've really needed those long walks home to think.

I think I'm coming up with some answers.
--M

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