500

half a bottle of remspeck (?) pinot noir. ignore me. i had too much. vince is in the bathroom assaulting my bathroom mirror (which he fastened to the wall after my not having a mirror for nearly 3 years) with flinglets from dental flossing. loretta our waitress tonight and vin had a funny squaring off. she didn't kowtow to vince's general sneariness. and vince didn't cave in to her general lack of respect for the customer. she wasn't one of these pattycake niceynicey waitresses. she runs the joint. like that cartoon character maxine, you know--the one one in curlers and a cig dangling outta er mouth? but loretta, that little smirk breaking through her banged up facade...cute. i don't think she told us all of the specials b/c i surely would have gotten what our loud, late-coming really well preserved 50-something next table neighbors got when their much nicer younger same-gravel-glass-voiced waitress mentioned to them... saltimbocca. mmMM. so. vinny and i sat there for a good couple hours laughing at him mostly. but if the haha turns to me...quickly, quickly, i pout and rage and get red-eye reactive.

in this instant--when i stop drinking and the room shrinks, condenses onto the head of a pin--i move beyond pouty or pensive or defensive. it's this instant that accelerates my dream just a smidge--the devotion to doing, the necessary doing something in my life besides ponder. it's the instant i am standing at the mirror or the table with no thought at all. immediacy. me. the whole thing. maybe like burroughs said: a frozen moment when everyone sees what is on the end of every fork. or something like that. but it takes time. sometimes epiphany are slow-moving elephants. they end up where they want to be in the end. we call it a miracle, just the same.

so back to reality and the thinking of the dream, the creating the space to make it happen. it's slow... molasses slow. and the reality is...and, believe me when i say i have never used the words "navel gaze" but...fucksake...i do it. that sucks. i waste time navel gazing. (i know i know, the art needs the time...but...)

shit.

i'm a navel gazer. for me this means i'm afraid to push...beyond...to get what i want. what i need. i'm afraid to demand.

ew.

well, except with vince. i can demand from him because he demands of me. not evil demands, either. perfect challenges, for me to strive for my dreams, to recognize my potential and go for it, to live the life i want, always becoming the person i want to live--and die--as. and he gets my wrath because of it. because he sees the bullshit, because he knows the beauty. because he looks me in the eye and says: "what are you going to do about it." partner? equal? yup. and reflection and balance. my favorite...almost everything. i catch him echoing my conscience sometimes, and that's another pisser. i hear the murmer...recognition for your work? you can only reach for it by working, really working, for it. the straightest distance between two points.... personally i'm not a fan so much of straight lines... i mean, isn't that what he's for? i'll never be him or think like him. but he rubs off a bit. and thankfully, i do the same. it's the growing together beautifully that excites me. he opens me to faith. and i open him to...you got it...more faith.

vince is done in the bathroom. i gotta go b/c i have waaaaaaaaay too few hours with him and tomorrow i will get up and begin to think about a paper i gotta kick out by thursday.

hey vin's here to collect me. kisses on the neck. my fucking favorite. in his blue boxers with stupid boats. probably his favorite.

i gotta go.

but tomorrow i'll think about my project. because. i must. stop. resisting.

i want to be remembered. you know. remembered.

honored.

i'm selfish. and i'm a good one. i'm one of those who should be remembered. i want to leave something good in the world. for as long as i can.

80 years, shit.

i wanna go for at least 500. don't you?

gotta dream.