Sketches – 95

You use this photo as a bookmark?

Yes, I love that picture.

Would you like one that isn’t more than a decade old?

I’ve been using this one for a while, and it still works.

Someone more sensitive than I am might think you preferred the younger version of me.

I would love an updated picture, now that you mention it.

How about this one?

You don’t look particularly happy in this picture. When was it taken?

I wasn’t, and yesterday.

Is something wrong?

Yes. There is something I need from you, and you aren’t going to like it.

What is it?

I need to spend eight weeks in Yaddo. Alone.

Yaddo?

It’s an artist’s colony about 45 minutes north of Albany, NY.

Eight weeks?

I have the money saved, and I need to do something to get renergized. This is a huge opportunity for me.

Alright, then, when do you leave?

I could start the beginning of April, so — a couple of weeks from now.

Well, I assume that the “alone” part is important in what you are trying to accomplish, so… I hope it goes well. What all do you need to do to get ready?

There are a million things. I knew you would notice when I started making all these lists…

,.. Hang on a second! How long have you been planning this?

Since Christmas, when we ran into Oliver. He was there a couple of years ago, and suggested it might help.

And why are you just now telling me?

I know how you get about my ex-boyfriends.

Well, there seem to be an awful lot of them. And secrecy isn’t the best way to assuage jealousy. Is Oliver going to also be at

No. Remember I said I needed something from you?

Yes.

I need you to understand why I am doing this. I have to start producing top-quality work again. I have to, have to, have to.

I get that.

And I need you to understand my leaving for a month is not about you.

So you aren’t going to say anything?

What is there to say?

Okay, then. Tell me how you feel.

I’d rather not. This isn’t about me.

Listen, I know I have gone about this the wrong way. I should have talked to you a couple of months ago. But you’ve been super stressed out at work and I didn’t want to add my artist drama to your already full plate. This is not about me being unhappy with you or anything like that.

Mmm.

Please tell me what’s going through your head.

Have you ever placed a coin in one of those large funnel things where the coin makes spirals all around before it finally disappears into the funnel? Well, that’s what I am trying NOT to do — spiral.

… because …

Because it feels like (1) I wasn’t perceptive enough to pick up on what was going on with you — but OLIVER was; (2) You were so worried about my apparently insane jealousy that you didn’t bother to even talk to me about it until you had to; and (3) Because it just occurred to me that I don’t know who even took that picture of you that you just gave me.

Oliver is in film and Yaddo specializes in that so it was on his mind; I am sorry about not telling you sooner, but I didn’t want to worry you over something I might have backed out of; and my sister took the photo, in case you think I have a parade of exes coming through our house to make you new bookmarks.

And look, I am sorry, too. I want you to be happy, so… go do what you have to do. The cat and I will be fine here.

So you are totally cool with this.

I didn’t say that. But I will be. Love sucks, but only because life sucks.

Besides, don’t you think I might also be jealous wondering what you are doing with all your new found free time?

Oh yes, because you married a former model with a million exes. No wait, that was me that did that.

Yes, I just married the successful business executive guy who is also creative. You don’t sound like the lead in a romantic novel at all.

I love you and I trust you. And I hope you come back.

Oh, sweetheart…

it wasn’t supposed to be like this…

young and desiring, dreaming, drifting 
real and complacent, endlessly sifting,
to see and feel and hear and be
someplace besides where one ought to be --

to find in the stories told, and implied,
that though much truth was said, almost everyone lied
in saying one finds oneself one day, for good,
and what once was gray will be clear understood --

for now years close in like a blanket, or noose,
identity tied up in just how much use
one can be to those who, while good to their core,
cannot see you, just your age

anymore

Power Fantasies / Power Realities

(This is a 30 minute timed write, so I am sure I am going to say something wrong. Oh well. – Owen)

If I look around me at the world, both the way it is now and how it was when I was a child, I have to conclude that people want power more than anything else — more than money, more than fame, more than love, and more than safety.

Power, for most people, is the ability to get what you want. We are all born wanting what we want, and that feature of humankind doesn’t fade with age, although we get better at hiding it. We go through adolescence dreaming of a world where we have the power to do or to be what we wish — whether it be social, sexual, physical, or any other type of thing. We may be told by the adults around us that we can be anything we want to be, but most of us hit an age where we know that’s not true. So we fantasize about what having that power would be like: whether through books, movies, music, idolizing online personalities, fantasy, super-hero stories, and so on.

There has been a lot in the news about widespread abuse of power. I was going to add “lately” to that sentence, but a moment’s reflection had me remembering that abuse of power is as old as humanity itself. If I look inward, I can see that many of the bad things I have done in my life came from the fact I had the power to do them, and chose to exercise that power (and to experience the feeling that came with it) over deciding based on either moral or ethical grounds.

In other words: you can have power without abusing it, but you cannot abuse power without having it.

The other things that is hard to escape is how double-minded and self-contradictory much of our thinking around power is. As just one example, everyday popular discourse around sex is hopelessly tangled with weird power dynamics. Popular discussions around sex workers go seamlessly back and forth between seeing these professions as empowering for the people in them to exploitative by nature, and the people who think this way seem unaware of any contradiction. That would seem to be (in part at least) because one of our favorite power dynamics plays is to pretend we are winning arguments online.

Before turning 18, I routinely fantasized about the girls around me, some older and some younger than I was. Upon turning 18, I became aware that sleeping with someone younger than I was at that time was a crime. Since I wasn’t sleeping with anyone, it was kind of a moot point, but had I been more popular with girls than I was there might have been thornier issues. As it was, my appearance and personality did more to keep me out of any potential trouble than any higher considerations might have. I am pretty sure that the “desire” part of my experience was close-to-universal; the “ability” part of my experience varies widely from person-to-person. So many older boys/young men have or had problems to deal with that I didn’t.

When I got to the point where I was sexually active, I had the experience of a young woman I was dating initiating intimacy, only to draw back from it at the point of what would have been consummation. I pulled away because I didn’t want to hurt her. However, I felt terrible and unattractive and less-than because I knew that moment would come for her someday, but she didn’t want it to be me.

She remembers and is grateful to me to this day; I still feel terrible about it. But maybe sex is intrinsically connected to power dynamics.

If you gave the adolescent version of me (or almost anyone else) the power to have what we fantasize about, the world would be in absolute chaos — which it arguably already is, and kind of for that reason. We need boundaries to power, because it is the ultimate cancer: it spreads, but contributes nothing to health of the host organism, which it ultimately kills.

Off The Ledge

He tried to talk her off the ledge 
He loved her best as he knew how
But she was bent and turned within
And made of grief and shattered glass

That scraped and cut what had been hope
And bled her slowly out and down
The same cursed path that he’d been on
As agents lacking pride or place

The stories we in time concoct
To make believe that all’s not real
When every dream becomes a blur
And numb’s the sharpest thing

We feel

empty asymmetries

the empty asymmetries of ugliness: 
a we, a them, an in between --
wisdom, carried only in whispers;
folly, borne everywhere as a disease

those who believe their judgments never wrong
cannot even judge what they are seeing
there was a union (once) of self 
a smattering of all involved
in pleasure mild, proffered help
and daily problems (sort of) solved

but then we came to see ourselves
a ever-constant halloween
the mask (this time) beneath face
but such as cannot be unseen

and every better turned to worse
and every crack a soon divide:
the kings and queens we were now gone
from truth’s unyielding

regicide

the way the years go

turn inside out and find yourself? 
it doesn't work it never has --
the thread that makes each you a you
connects what was and isn't yet --

but i think we can't clearly see
the future anymore the past;
because the present doesn't yield
the light within, but more the shadow
cast by hope and expectation:
we build the world we know as much
as it happens to us

memories like buildings become abandoned
not from lack of strength but
lack of visitors