Tuesday, December 28
I love popcorn, specifically anything with the words “butter” or “boom” in the title. I don’t know why. Maybe cause I love movies, or maybe cause it’s a suitable substitute for a normal meal and ya gotta cut corners where ya can (or at least I do). I like it slightly burnt, which changes from microwave to microwave. Annoying. I can’t stand healthy popcorn so don’t even try. And if you try to get me to watch a movie without popcorn, I will think about work or something else. So it’s essential to enjoying a flick for me. Yes. I love popcorn.
I love movies. I try to watch as many as possible. With popcorn.
I love reading books. Holding them. Smelling them. There’s something real and permanent about’em that I can’t find in any other medium – as if the pages hold not only the time of the author but the times you turned them, as well as the dust and debris of the world that they anchor down in. When you open a book you are one with Time. With the past. There’s a beautiful bookstore in Princeton I would go to a lot. I think that’s where this particular fascination started. The first book I bought there was Steppenwolf. For books, I don’t need popcorn like I do for movies, cause the butter will stain the pages and I like my pages clean.
I love wearing my “Brokeback Mountain Jacket.” I don’t really know the correct terminology for this jacket (corduroy?). My ma gave it to me for Christmas and since that day, life’s been pretty damn good. I wear it all the time. Even in summer. Sometimes even to bed. Sometimes.
I love wearing my “Brokeback Mountain Jacket” with a western-style button down shirt and white tanktop. That’s pretty much all I wear. I used to wear a lot of Rugby shirts in high school, so I’m sure this fad will fade. But not my jacket … that stays.
I don’t love the movie Brokeback Mountain. I actually don’t like it at all. But my jacket is wonderful.
I love the static of the air after I’ve just worked really hard on something (anything). There’s a calm to it, a sense of energies colliding. Like all the changes I’ve made in my life and in this particular thing I’m working on have not only changed the thing itself, but the ground, the air, the energy of the people involved – everything. Like the serenity after snowing, or the pause in music before a trill or explosion of sound. I love it. I wouldn’t say that’s why I work hard per se, but I’d say it’s a nice Starburst after the whole experience. A transition into the moments after from the mountains before. A beat of possibility.
I love possibility.