It's an interesting thing.
To walk through a city like New York City with its luxury condos and hipster eateries and spend fifty dollars on grilled seabass and a glass or two of a Gruner Veltliner and then flirt with the server who's really doing their job so they can buy headshots and eventually move out to L.A. where creative types can make the real money.
It's interesting when you can pat yourself on the back for how fit you are and how much water you drink in one given day, and then turn up your nose to pork-eaters or cigarette smokers who certainly don't eat as well as you. It's even more interesting to know you're a bit of food snob and dare I say an irritating one and you're kind of okay with that.
It's an interesting thing to know you've been college educated and carved out a decent professional life for yourself and that you can't imagine if you had actually stayed on the outskirts of a midwestern town and married some girlfriend from high school who always seemed more interested in your best friend, the star running back. Whose friendship you thought you needed so much, it borderlined on obsessive, and made your mother question your self-esteem.
It's interesting that a parade of thoughts can go marching through your conscience as you ride the A Train back to Brooklyn. Thoughts like, Did you spend too much at Whole Foods? Are you having enough sex? Will you ever take the gamble and challenge yourself to a real-deal relationship? And why in hell are you still fascinated by your 80 year old cousin at the family reunion who remarked about another cousin's dictator-like behavior when all she's trying to do is live in a democracy?
It's interesting that when you walk down your block in Brooklyn and a black man calls another black man a no good motherfucking nigga and you actually think this is temporary. Their powerlessness is temporary. That they will not pass on this language of degradation to generations to come. It will disappear. Some grand thing will drop from the sky and wipe clean the slate.
It's interesting that while you're walking down the block, it rains so hard, the streets flood in minutes and you look up at a shivering black bird perched in a tree, looking down at you like, This is serious. Wait until there's no more rain at all.
It's interesting that you are alive and you breathe and feel and want the best for yourself and the surroundings you live in, and that you understand that everything in this life is about choice. That one can choose whatever life they want; they should just know you have to be willing to fight hard for that choice. It's really that simple.
It's interesting. I've spun a complete circle around myself in this blog. And you trusted me enough to circle with me.
Interesting.
Until next time,
Keith
