Four days. Four ambivalent days, alone out here, in New York. The energy is more than palpable (I anticipated a mere stereographic plurality, an abundant chaos, but disorganized); it’s not like Saigon at all–everyone’s vivacious, enlightened in//to specific character. I can see it in their eyes, the way my most practiced, minimal gaze is returned, captured and classifed, even. This place is a Leviathan–a beast.
And yet this is exactly how I feel here. In IC I could freely choose to appear sane, congenial, and only let others see or hear what passes for madess to me when I allowed it. But the battery’s higher here–so many of them are barely contained, their madness peeking just over the perceptual windowsill, right back at me and mine, plotting, scheming, narrating, turning and laughing. They can see me.
The difference is that they’re likely enabled–manifesting hallucination and delirium to test their true feelings’ merit, where as I…I?
THAT’S THE QUESTION, RIGHT?
The truth is I’m not alone here–there is no more question of being alone or together. Only a continuum, or spectrum of feeling with teeth. God help me if I ever trip here.
I’ve sent around ten applications out, received one response from a Chinese ESL//SAT//Primary school in Queens, but that guy hasn’t responded to my request for a meeting time yet…Is this fish, or incompetence I smell?
Holly is dead. My family is disintegrating.
I pray to myself, for myself.