09.03.19
today i don't know where to go. today i am tasked with the blank new page of a journal, asking me where i wish to set foot. "the world is my oyster" has never been truer. there are questions of finance, of course. there are questions of logistics. would i have to marie-kondo my whole life? the contents of my entire bedroom, to pack up and bolt? yes. i probably would.
but perhaps this, too, is good. to not know who you are, where to go, but with the restored freedom of each individual limb is a far better position to be in than to not know these things but also to suffocate under the guilt and duress of placating others. my roommate has given me the notice of freedom. now the work remaining is entirely mine. undergoing a material-identity cleanse is only apt.
R. begs the question: consider the place, the textures and terrain, that you feel would most inspire you, would most invite you to plant your foot against it with a force of confidence, brilliance, perhaps arrogance in comfort and ambition? the word "reno" returns to the tongue, again and again, but how much of this is a passed empathetic taste upon considering that brilliant woman i might describe to others as a "role model"? reno, of course, is the place of my american birth; the first american city i set foot on. here i must recall the recent words of a friend who describes electing a life in the miserable stench of brooklyn, as a return to 'ground zero,' the place of his birth and childhood, from which there is only anywhere else to go.
i am of course envious of those who have such immediately tangible connection to their place of birth. delhi, india, sounds of a foreign place, so distant it has the feeling of another world or planet where the people are of an entirely different color (such as the potential name of a watercolor bottle that would never set foot on western soil: "krishna-blue"). even my childhood home, which i even hesitate to describe in this fashion as i moved from apartment to apartment, then apartment to house, per the economic ascendance of mother and father, is going. in this manner i feel an inert part of a multi-body physics problem, waiting for the movement of others to prompt a final and assured movement in me. this was the problem in my last and failed relationship: a joint inaction, a jointly sunken ship swallowed by the multitude drops of indecision and paralysis. i believe we each were waiting for the other to make some move of confidence to provide a context from which to act. i needed him; he needed me. and it spoils the taste in my tongue to have to admit or relent, perhaps he needed me even more.
now i must be my own waifu.