1/29/01: Falling is Like This

This is a great big thought, and it might not make much sense to you, but it makes sense to me.

I was sitting on the train, coming back from White Plains, where I had watched the superbowl and drunk a little bit too much beer, and I was quite sleepy and completely in love with that feeling.

My head was falling back onto the seat, and my eyes were closing, it was sort of in slow motion, that my head was getting so close to the seat back and as I fell, it made the train go faster and faster, and it was like I was falling down to the center of the earth. Really lovely. And I was thinking about how what was so a part of this lovely feeling was that it wasn't going to go on. An essential part of the falling is the landing. You can't keep going faster -- sooner or later, you're going to run out of track.

It's kind of like listening to a song you know really well and really love. When the first notes start up, you know what's comng so you sort of have a flash of the whole thing, beginning to end, but all at once. And you know it's going to end, but you're going to stay there and ride it out because it's the momentary transition from note to note that's beautiful, not just the opening or final chords.

The time that I kissed the Boy Who Is Gone From My Reckoning, it was quite a short kiss, but for what it's worth, I felt it all the way down until it hit my toes and then went back up again. And I swear I knew what it would be between us in the future. I could see the whole of what might be over time, and it freaked me out and I stepped back and said, "Oh, shit." (So, Boy, if you ever read this, now you know why I said that.) Yeah, I'm pretty literate. It really was a lovely vision. Really. Too bad he didn't, or couldn't, or wouldn't, share it.

He says that he can't get involved with me because he's leaving anyway in October, so it could never be that serious anyway. And who knows, maybe he just changed his mind about me. All I know is that I wouldn't not do something just because I was afraid of it ending. You always have to take a last bite of something, you have to end every conversation, and you might just get hit by a bus tomorrow.

This may seem unrelated, but it's not, in my head, anyway. On the train, I managed to open my eyes for a bit and I saw a guy that I was facing, and I liked his face, and since he was sleeping I could look at it all I wanted. I saw my whole story with him, and it was basically just this: Loretta sees cute guy on train, and reminds herself that just because one has slipped away, doesn't mean that she will never find another one. When he opened his eyes, I liked his eyes too, but then I couldn't look at him as much. So I looked around the train, and I saw on the opposite wall rack a big guitar case. I stared at that for a while. Just as beautiful to me. When the train finally stopped, everyone was getting their stuff, and my cute guy crossed the aisle to get his guitar down from the rack. I hadn't even come up with such a pat ending in my own tricky head. So it was all right.

I didn't say anything to him, but I didn't really want to. The point was that I saw him. He's gone now but I saw him then. And I *did* kiss that other boy once, and I *was* really happy when it happened, even though I'm not really now. As Banana Yoshimoto says, "The mysteries aren't biased, so they can happen to us all." You just have to be open to them, I think.

And not a fucking coward.

back to musings. and read one that makes more sense.