Nice Morning

Slept in because I was up late at my new friend Mur's apartment. It was our first hang out, and I showed up in bike shorts. He answered the door in a tye-dye tee and slippers. "I ordered food," he said. One giant order of chili cheese fries and a cucumber salad it turned out. We met two years ago on tour in Scotland. We perhaps said two words to each other, but I followed him on Instagram anyway. Maybe because I wanted to tag him in a photo? He lived in New York, but I thought we might meet again. And then what do you know two months ago on a walk in my neighborhood, we crossed paths. He lives down the street in LA now. We exchanged numbers. "We should do something!" But how often does the something come to be? Then a couple weeks ago I was trotting to a meeting and saw him outside one of my favorite cafes. The something was brought up again. When we had an interaction online last week it was like Beetlejuice rules, someone mentioned doing something for a third time? That's when calendars come out. He suggested I come over to watch Urban Legend, which is a hilarious first hang out and also the most perfect invite someone could extend to me. We had a great time. At midnight he walked me the five minutes home, I went upstairs, played with my hamster, said goodnight to Puhg, and made a huge plate of nachos.

So I got going around 8:30 AM. I had strange dreams. They transcended my usual personal or career dramas. I wasn't sure if I was a real person, and so when I woke up, I had to ask. I decided to cosplay normal as write my daily gratitudes and read two chapters of Casey Wilson's book. I breathed in the sun and did a Peleton HIIT workout. It was 11 or so when I decided to run out for a coffee, do my weekly reflecting and to-do lists. But as I caught a glimpse at myself in the hall mirror I decided I looked kind of funny LA chic with my oversized windbreaker and little purple Adidas. Maybe it was a good day to sit on the Starbucks patio. I grabbed my notebooks and hustled to the shop. There was a huge backup of customers hovering around the pick-up. Since I was fifteen minutes late picking up my mobile order I saw the one grande cup, zipped past everyone, and snatched it. The barista even double checked, "Alice?" Like, "Ma'am you're too confidently taking that cup for someone we know is never coming." But I nodded as Ariana Grande wailed in my ears.

My favorite chair was open. A thatched little egg number with a table. I got my feelings out in one notebook, organized my action items, my goals, in the other. I sent cringe necessary emails. I texted a couple friends. I sipped the creamy pumpkin coffee. This city is often beautiful and pleasant--today especially so. There were fresh flowers somewhere nearby, I swear. How lucky and full.

Inside the Skull

I look at this person across the table. We're on a patio, as people wont to be in le pandemic, and they say something and I laugh and then I'm like, "was that funny? I'm not sure." And somehow before my conscious mind even knows it, a new question, "Do I like them?" I don't know. I'm better at identifying who is in my life and why now. Ever since that chilly night I trotted into my therapist's office. I remember it was so dark out the window as she asked me why I had various friends in my life and sometimes I really didn't have reasons. Not that you have to have reasons for all of it, but sometimes I had reasons that aren't actually that good, it turns out. Like, "I've known them forever" or "they were there for me ten years ago" or "I was there for them two years ago." Really and truly I ask myself is this how I want to spend my time? Is this person's energy good for me and the world? I know why I asked the person across for me to meet up. They're very available, they want to fill all their time. I almost felt I owed them a debt for being busy for a month or so. But that didn't guilt me. No, sometimes I like to talk to this person because they understand a very particular corner of our career. And maybe I don't like them. I mean, I really really really do not know sometimes when it's 9 PM and you're on a sidewalk. I'm not better than this person. They start talking about something but in my head now I've moved on--"Do they like me?" And they probably don't know. When they were driving home did they think, ah, I'm refreshed or, ugh, I'm annoyed? I get frustrated with this person quickly because they ask for advice and don't take it. Why does that drive me mad. Potential wasted? Or not feeling heard. More things I simply don't know! I dive into this person's tuft of head hair and blink around from their skull. If I were them I wouldn't like me. Not because I think I'm unlikable, but because "I" wouldn't want to catch up with a friend who's always on the cusp of annoyed at "me." How is that any fun or worthy of these LA prices? And yet two days later, they ask me to make more plans. And I wonder, for some of us, if it's just about the attention always and forever. Just the attention of being a person at all--whether you like the entity giving you the attention a darn lick.