franklet.cizzom 8=> about time 8=> the struggle is reality

December 4, 2016

the struggle is reality

Filed under: about time — franklet @ 2:59 am

it’s been two months without social media. aside from random,unplanned interactions, of course. tonight I’m eating something awful my parents brought me from Trader Joe’s and re-watching Ghost World, while also trying to come up with this blog post. I mistakenly published a different post first… ugh for that. I never realized the first time I watched Ghost World – just how awful these girls are. I did think they were a bit mean, but awful, never. In fact, I even thought these characters were cool. Admirable in a way. They had such withering distinction in the way they moved through their world. I can remember wanting to be *like* them. The sad travails of misstepping youth, yearning to be psuedo punk and proto-hipster cool. *yawn*
I finished painting my office. The disarray left by the person who was going to paint it is gone. I spent the day with my stepfather being very Bob Vila. Did you know my office is rife with ladybugs? How apropos is that?
The shingles are mostly better. I’ve got my beady little eyes set on someone. Let’s see how that goes.
In a little over a month I’ll be going to Italy and Greece. Alone. It’s rather terrifying and clarifying at the same time. TO visit places so steeped in my own personal mythology, in part because of the inherent mythology of the places themselves. I remember back in 1997 when this gay guy for whom I processed mortgage loans came back from his romantic vacation with his lover, to Italy, of course. It was a kind gesture of course. He knew how much I had always wanted to go, because, I told him so when I discovered he was going. So this is what he did: he stole a small piece of the Colisseum and brought it back. For me. I have no idea why. It was not like I mattered to him. But he still thought enough of me to commit an international crime. Imagine that. Yet I lost the gift. Who knows when or where. I can’t even remember what I did with it after he gave to me.
I suppose there’s a moral there. A reflection of some deeper truth about life. About my life. About classical art and the world at large. About the turning of time and civilization. About what comes next. About the effects we have on people and they upon us. About the things we’ve lost. THe things we never carried along.
But here I am. And there it went.
I think I missed it.

No Comments »

No comments yet.

RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URL

Leave a comment

You must be logged in to post a comment.