normal people scare me

told myself i would eat a piece of cheese and then just write whatever i can write about. But here we r four days and many cheeses later. Blue July happened and now at the end of it look at me my hair is longer i cannot shake the feeling that something vulgar and self interested has crawled into my brain and hatched into all my thoughts like connective tissue. it seemed necessary, or at least possible, to spend the hottest fastest month reflecting and meditating, being alive, eating rather than cooking and i am now feeling apprehensive about my goodness, about how stepping back into the prescribed structures that have allowed me this agency to pause actually behooves goodness. this agency yes but at what cost? When have I ever not been a child standing on the edge of a diving board. when have i ever not been a child standing on the edge. sometimes i can’t sleep and i try to make the sound of your sleep in my head. your sleep i never doubted. and no one has really listened to me since, or will ever listen to me again.

sorry if you know this or suspect this or have gleaned an amalgamation of this from or through me but here we go with the context. i live in new york about half the year, almost only always during the busy seasons. busy seasons because there are campaigns being shot and magazine articles being slotted and brand dinners and capsule activations and books and movie premieres and talking to do and places to be. then after running for the money and fame and feeling sort of delirious and far from oneself it only seems objectively earned to then spend the money made on rehabilitating somewhere far away. for me at least this is what keeps the balance in continuum. this business occurs fall and spring and the beginning of summer and the end of winter. then hibernate and have pure ideas and in my case even be so lucky to study with my teachers in rolling hills of far away.

my teachers are all i have ever had. and my new york is sort of different. i wear nice clothes and i live alone next to a park. i move money and my heart beats like a rabbit. to be clear there is no fund, hardly any family, nothing beneath me besides the yoga mat and the floor. my outputs and the freedom they allow for. and when there is no camera i am in pajamas and i am eating on the floor. that sincerity charms, the innate childishness of someone who has a lot of questions and clearly no destination conjunct with being born in a time that wants me to look the way i do, and allows me to connect with the teachings of the buddha.

Let me give you one night. Go out to this and that i am invited to and so and so dresses me and i am forty minutes late on accident because it is so hard for me to get off the phone or get anywhere and everyone else knows each other since birth. and somehow i am rushing to the afters in someone else’s car and have drinks and talk to so and so in the corner about their work, my work, the work. Car home get up those stairs five emails scheduled and sleep in my makeup. Meditate on the floor with a timer on half panicked and then immediately to meetings, edits, photos, fittings, so and so is coming over to help me film such a thing as internet momentum. this fifty times over, with little variation, with any time left over to organize the closet or hold an onion at the grocery store.

it’s a funny thing. i am popular girl although i never wanted it and don’t do it. Law of attraction. i am in complete submission. i swear i wear what they tell me. i smile and i lie. i have not watched tv in years. i would love to watch tv. i would love to want something just for me. but i think if i keep going with what has taken me so far it might launch me out of its mouth.

if i do it right, and the right people help me, and the stars continue to support me, and i last through this moment, and the next one, then i really might be able to disappear into those teachings. there’s a foot pressing on the gas and it’s getting so far from itself and bifurcated and quick to the point where when i enter the other world the first one closes its mouth and vanishes. to the point where when i return to the first world, my birth world, the world i inherited and do commerce within it seems completely precarious and devoid of meaning.

When i am not in New York i am only not in New York. when i am not in new york i am nothing and everywhere. When i am in New York i have to remember that real people exist, real people who know me and love me still. in new york we all deserve better. we are playing a shit game we defaulted into. and so nobody wants what they think they do.

a teacher told me recently that when you are off your path you can just correct it. No big deal. just straighten up, and correct. But maybe a lot of the time we are surviving too hard to focus on the aerial view.

to appear in order to disappear.

to veer off in order to get on track.

to sleep in order to wake up.

i understand that being normal may just be less focused on interrogating reality and more so trusting in the given sequence that in its essence is very kind and generous. and maybe i am just broken? I dunno is that boring? To just be broken?

o how beautiful you were when your teeth shined in the night. we didn’t have much to say from our hearts until we came to the topic of both hating so and so and then how everything they stand for we are against and how much they offered for whatever. if i had to explain cigarettes to an alien i would say they are dried leaves rolled into thin tubes of paper and you burn them and inhale the smoke and it makes your insides feel a type of way and alien would understand. beautiful alien would say do you smoke? and i would say i do not, although i have, and i will again. and alien would tilt his head never knowing and i would distract with my hands or phone. if i am not distracted i am confused. And what does it mean to be wrong when you are the best at getting towards your wanting. But i resist the urge to tie everything in a neat little bow. languish in the discomfort, the unknowing.

if i had to be in mideval times i wouldn’t want to be a knight, or a princess. i’d like to have a big beautiful pumpkin patch. anyone who wanted pumpkins would know to come to me. and nobody would ever again tell me how i am or what i should be doing. before fame n fortune dream i had another. I wanted to be kind of like healing people on the floor surrounded by crystals and chakra posters. I didn’t want to write about myself. signs pointed towards being a podiatrist.

I do love writing. I am excited to have it with me for some time and i am curious what my efforts to know will amount to. curious is something. And i hope my second world continues to smooth my voice into something sonorous and clear.

trust my will.

s0t☾€