a film about clouds
so.
how do i put this into words without gumming it up?
it finally happened. the thing i've been begging the universe for, for 3 years at least.
i was one of them. i was one of the ones who got to be part of it. who got to come together spontaneously and go to a second and then a third place. and my opinions were listened to and followed, but i didn't have to direct it, i didn't have to cajole anyone, things just flowed naturally.
and where we went was SO beautiful. and it was the perfect people, the ones i've been missing and craving SO badly. the ones i've been waiting to come back to me.
and we did the thing where someone starts making a noise and everyone joins in and we just babble nonsense sounds at each other for a long time. and that used to be my life! everyone not moving because we don't want it to end. callbacks and inside jokes folding over themselves. colored string lights and soft air and children screaming and wooden benches and trees and birds and mexican food and secretly building a tower out of dirty dishes waiting for someone to notice. and being so glad.
cupping the moment like an eggshell, knowing everyone else is holding it too. carrying it together, in equal parts. attentive, committed to fun. committed to togetherness. committed to sustaining. all in love with the same things. knowing how special it all is.
they said "that really wasn't that funny," as if they were trying to keep themselves humble after i laughed very hard at something they'd said for the fifth time in a row. "i know. i'm loopy," i replied. i was just delighted. but also, it kind of was that funny.
so amazed to be sharing space with this person. so incredibly lucky. (even if they're dating someone else now. that's just a little heartbreak i have to tend to on my own time.)
just to have a slice of my old life back. just to feel how it felt for my whole twenties, for one day. like, we're trying to keep it going by planning a trip together this weekend (!!!!!!!!) but honestly, i'm good. if nothing ever happens again, if i never get to dance again, if i'm stuck in this grey house with dirty hair forever, at least i got to have it one more time. and every time i was alone for a minute i would check in with myself, they way you look in the mirror while drunk and your eyes look too real and you go "WOAH. i am ME. who AM i?" i would squeeze myself really tight and go it's happening it's happening it's happening oh my god, it's so good it's so good it's so good, and then i would return to the group and act normal, like i was an appropriate level of excited to be having this really nice day with everyone.
also, speaking of hair and mirrors, my hair randomly looked fucking amazing yesterday, as if all the molecules in the world had conspired to create magic for 24 hours.
anyway,
i'm not depressed anymore, again, and it's funny how i knew the antidote the whole time and kept telling everyone, and surely it shouldn't be so simple but i was right. and if something like a really good day can take it away, that means a really bad day can bring it back. i know that, and i'm prepared for it. even if this trip doesn't happen, it won't break me.
when i say not depressed, i mean that since yesterday, whenever i think of something i want to do i go "why not? i should at least try" instead of "what's the point. it'll all go wrong anyway." so instead of lying in the dark feeling my anxiety for hours, i got out of bed as soon as i woke up and had a nice light breakfast and then rode the vintage stationery bike while listening to an old favorite episode of a podcast i like. and in the episode they describe this restaurant called Shopsin's that was created by this absurd bombastic renegade genius who sounds like the mascot for that seventies masculine brand of "do whatever the fuck i want" and the menu used to have 300 things on it and now it's run faithfully by his kids. (some of the items on the old menu have pretty racist names which i've never heard anyone mention and yes i feel really weird about it.) and i love things like that (not the racism) and i love reading menus (the same way i love looking at houses - it's a game of "what if"), so i looked it up. and while i was studiously reading the menu i wandered outside and had a thought i have often, which is that i've never been happier than when i worked at Eats (another eclectic old-school restaurant but way more toned down), because each employee had a mandatory 30 minute break and every single day i would climb up to the roof and dance a little and then lie down and look at the sky, and when my break was over the whole sky would be inside of me and i would be perfectly refreshed and born anew and ready to deal with anyone's bullshit gracefully. and i was standing outside thinking this and i really wanted to lie down, so i grabbed a broom and a bedsheet and swept the acorns away and i did it. and then i spoke some of these things into my voice memos.
i love all of that shit [like Shopsin's, like old things that were made for love not money and that get to keep existing]. and when i say love, i mean…need.
like i can’t live without it. like, this is the stuff.
like, what are we doing.
like this is why alive.
like, help? how did we get here?
like……..where is it going? where has it gone?
i’m the kind of crazy that will cry reading menus in the middle of the night [story for another time] and maybe care about being your friend too much. i’m not the kind of crazy that will hurt you. i cause harm like anyone, but most of it is directed inward.
i’m surrounded by green lit up trees with a clearing in the center and it doesn’t really feel like the wind is blowing but the clouds are moving very fast. so it kind of feels like i’m watching a film on a giant projector that covers the whole sky. a film about clouds. (the stage curtains are the trees)
although when i hold my phone up to try to capture the sensation it doesn’t look like the clouds are moving fast at all. and then i look past the screen and there they are again. back and forth. a. which is a good metaphor for the relationship between capturing and experiencing the moment. b. and that sensation reminds me of a nightmare i had as a kid of everything getting bigger really quickly and not being able to control it, i think there was maybe a rapidly expanding ball of dough in a metal shopping cart, and whenever i have a panic attack that’s how i feel in my body.
i’m speaking this into my phone because i can’t imagine staring at a screen right now. although the golden hour of morning just ended, so really i’m staring at the inside of my eyelids instead of the world.
i don’t know if writing this down and sharing it is a good idea. i don’t know if i’m ruining the moment by attempting to preserve it.
i know finding the right words is important to me because (among other reasons) it’s the first thing to go when i’m around someone whose opinions i really, really care about. i get so scared that i won’t be able to express myself with impact & precision that i can feel my whole vocabulary start to dissolve just by thinking about them. i’m still having aftershocks of that and i’m nowhere near anyone.
i caught myself telling maybe one too many sad stories yesterday.
here’s me talking about crushes again. i mean, yeah. why not say all the things i want to say but can’t, here, where i can say anything.
it doesn’t need to be coherent!
i keep thinking about my “it’s a girl thing” owl necklace comment which did not come out the way i meant. i’m sorry if it hurt you. for the record, i want to eat you up
for the record, i don’t see you as a boy. i see you as some sort of gender-transcending angel creature
you turn on my queerness, so
i’m a girl, and i’m pretty gay for you, so
i find you utterly fascinating and exquisitely beautiful. and i knew it. i knew it would be good. why didn’t you listen to me?
everyone says "chelsea how are you so kind and funny and considerate and observant and smart and aware and creative and wonderful to be around when you have so much trauma?" and i say "watch and learn, boys" and i do a little tap dance and whirl around in my silver spangled dress and they say "wow you look so skinny" and i say "yes that's because i'm being played by Renée Zellweger circa 2002" and they go "ooh, ahh" and i give a little wink and then i like write some poetry and take a nap in a rainbow-colored hammock that has definitely been cleaned recently and all the bugs jump on my skin and sing a little song while smiling and it's the perfect temperature and when i look at my phone it has SO many missed calls from friends and old lovers. this happens to me every day
i think the way most women feel about each other is like "omg i love your dress! you can't have my man." and the way i feel about other women is like "if you're not going to kiss me, can we at least be really good friends?" and they're like "no! you can't have my man!!!"
i had an Experience the other day reading the blog of writer Cintra Wilson. a distinctly San Fransisco-esque experience, and i don't know exactly what it is about that place or how to put it into words so i'll abstain for now. (it's like an antique shop where everyone wants to take you on a dangerous adventure??) i went down a rabbit hole of imagination but the rabbit hole was just a series of blog posts. and it really took me places, i really felt like i couldn't stop because i was on the verge of something great, some great discovery that would change my life and maybe the world, and i think it sort of did, maybe it laid the groundwork for yesterday to happen or maybe it tee'd me up* for what was to come. but anyway, if all that could happen from me reading some blog posts, then who's to say i couldn't have the same effect on someone. and therefore i will never apologize for writing in this again. okay? (she said for the seventh time.)
here's hers, she deserves more than a free shoutout (you don't have to subscribe to read): https://cintra.substack.com/
*apparently the proper spelling is just "teed" but i firmly reject that.
bummer to end on this note but i started a new job, again, but this one i don't really care about (it's another fucking pizza place - my third), and i didn't realize until yesterday that they're going to train me behind the line starting tonight, and i've never worked BOH anywhere and i'm scared of ovens (i'm a phobic person, okay) and the other day everyone was showing me their burn scars like they'd come out of battle together and i don't WANT to get burned by the oven, and all i can picture is my nervous system getting overwhelmed by a screaming customer and me shaking and dropping a pizza and burning my wrists or shins and then trying to hold it together and crying into the pepperoni and everyone talking about me behind my back saying "she can't handle it," when i never actually told them that i could, because i can't. so i don't want to go to work. but i will try to let yesterday and this experience of writing it all down sustain me through the evil oven proximity. and if i get burned i'll still be alive or whatever, and someday it'll all be a memory. and before i do any of that i have to go to therapy AND get my car towed to a mechanic. big day.
note to self: apply to work at the toolbank before it's too late!!!
thank you for reading. pray for me. i love you. goodbye ♡