Hide and Seek

I was reading a novel called Nausea by Sartre today and I came across a compelling character that has sort of stuck with me since I finished the book and put it down many hours ago. This girl named Anny strives to notice the perfect moments in her life. The moments where certain things need to be said, when certain things need to be kept quiet. Certain movements controlled and glances accepted or rejected.

I suppose I relate to this to a degree. It isn't as extreme, and unlike Anny I don't feel as though I have outlived myself and haven't come to a point where I feel that there will be no more perfect moments for the rest of my existence. But when I scan through the memories I have of even just this last year I can pull out a few that feel like 'movie moments'. Where the lighting is just perfect. The right song is playing in the background. Those moments that just stick with you.

Sometimes they are in fact terrible moments! But you just can't shake them free because something feels planned and executed to such a mechanical degree.

For me these moments include lying on the floor talking about where to travel after graduation. The perfect song playing on my iPod as I drove home from the barn when the sun was sinking lower into the earth and had reached it's 'level with my eyes' stage. Sitting on a porch downtown while the wind disturbed the trees and lightning flashed around the seven intoxicated students.

And the bad ones, when the tears flowed and the embarassing sobbing was shared over the phone or on the bathroom floor. Sitting. Standing. Fights with parents. Arguments with friends. Complications with others. Feeling arms wrapped around me. My arms pushing away. Back and forth, these moments come and go like the reactions that swell up inside of me.

I guess it is what I live for in a sense. Maybe not normalcy, I tend to lean towars the abnormal. But something constant and alive that will give promises of perfection but lead me through the ups and downs. I tell myself I can't handle the moment but I'm really enjoying the ride.

Moving For The Sake Of Motion

I'm in the city again but I return back to suburbia soon due to work. I've spent the last few days here, as I do when I have my days off. It's just sort of an escape and I get to relax a bit.

Yesterday I spent the whole day drinking tea while reading Sartre and Vonnegut. Sometimes curled up in bed like a cat soaking in the sun. Sometimes on the couch with a watchful eye on the anti-climatic storm outside that made everything wool grey and damp. That night I called up Julian after he got off work and we went to a local jazz club to drink, chat and watch some live jazz music. Afterwards we walked around and ended up at Fran's to eat something at 1 am then we both went home.

This summer I have really some to appreciate jazz. It's like standing in a crowd. Each instrument is like a person having an individual conversation, but when you tune out slightly it comes together in a formation of sound. It's all distinct but blends together.

It's about five more weeks until I'm living here full time. Embarking on my schedule that is about as spastic as a jazz song, or rather that my head is filled with a thousand spastic ideas or a thousand thoughts about not having any ideas. Bouncing from one coffee shop to the next. Being loyal to the local pubs and bars then navigating back home though the gridlike streets late at night. Looking down at the cars below my window. Moving at a controlled speed together, but separate lives and separate destinations withing each vehicle.

Right now I'm about to embark on my own. Back to the town I grew up in.