Happiest Valentine's Love

8:48, Friday morning, My Golden Building out my Window is now silver and pale yellow.

Yesterday, which happened to be Valentine's Day, somehow reversed itself from all things bad into all things good for me, for reasons I cannot begin to identify, unless they have to do with my constant faith in the idea of LOVE.  As energy which transforms, but is never lost.

When I awoke, I was sad to be so "alone".  Prince was nowhere to be heard from.  Even though the night before, HE had asked if I wanted some blue xmas lights and scrap paper (which he knows I LOVE).  He was going to COME OVER and deliver it, but I was out with friends, so I suggested the morning and he agreed!!
As usual, he ONLY responds when he feels like it.  Or whatever.  I usually have to be completely tolerant of it and NEVER show any anger, but in the morning it was hard.

I had submitted my Mousetraps to a group show, and the date of notification has passed (Feb 13th, PT's bday and the Boy's Mom.  Who is in town, and who I am trying to avoid. I feel terrible  And created a small Valentine for her. But I do not want to go back to being day to day friends.  She will never forgive me, and I can't completely trust her (does she have a diagnosis yet?  is she on medication?  is she okay?  Happier?  I couldn't take away her tears before.  I still couldn't help looking around the apartment, wondering what might happen in the moments she would be alone with the Boy. I'm 98% certain, it would be all good.  But, I don't understand her.)

I don't understand the Prince, either, for that matter.  We haven't really spoken since, what, October? 4 months?  I miss him.  I've been trying to convince myself that he (and Snow) have decided to keep me at arm's length, especially because I got drunk over their house when we had pizza.

It's better for me to believe that, than to worry what he might be going through. Or think of us both not getting out of our respective beds.  And all that positive friendship time being wasted.  Because HE makes me lonely.  I am fine by myself, but knowing that he's down the hall. . . silent.  It just makes me cry.

So I was sad to be alone, to be REJECTED, to have gone to meet the BOSS of the recruiter -yet another GREAT interview that will leave me hanging (I'm such a great person, right, and just haven't found my SPOT in the world, if I ever do).  Wondering how much money I'm gonna spend ($250 down to $165).

Enough to make me cry, awake at 5;30, feel alone and know that Prince is never going to be a friend I can turn to in my moments of despair.

Of course, when I had managed to pull myself together, get to Central Park to see 1 Billion Women dancing, and get an email about how much the recruiter loved me (which DID make me cry), and then onto MOMA PS 1 (and a Cuban at the diner and 5 cups of coffee which also cheered me immensely).

I sat in the dome where an Iraqi woman was singing "Hallelujah" on a loop (more tears).  Then saw an artist I LOVE, Thomas Lanigan- Schmidt's exhibit, his work is based on aluminum foil and holy relics.  As if I had spent the whole morning praying to the art and beauty. And thinking about LOVE.  (How it is NEVER lost, even when a relatioship ends, use it for jealous and evil ends, or transmute it into ART!!.)
Like I do.  I realized, in the shower, never had I had fewer prospects and never been happier. THIS is the way I want to be living my life.

Climbing the steps of the museum, thinking about people who die (Pop, DJ, PT when he goes)  you need to be centered enough to know that LOVE stays.  An inherently egotistic POV, that it brings out a Reflection you Recognize.

Making art, hanging out with The Boy.

And then, of course, as soon as he heard I had good news, he wrote back (is he a fair weather friend?) Does he not want to deal with me when I am in trouble, or most in need of a friend?  Does it trigger something timid in him?  (He was marvelous, when he sent me his music, and then-when he hugged me when I was lost in a world of violence. He can be sensitive)

And I went to sleep, so happy, thinking of him as a Friend. Knowing that I am generally at a level of insecurity that needs moderate to constant levels of monitoring, and eventually, it will never be enough-I was very glad for the respite and to allow myself to put him up on a shelf and imagine him in a personal hibernation or whatever.

10am.  He hasn't responded about meeting.  And probably won't.

(Did I mention about inviting them both to a concert, Snow says no, but somehow he can't manage to say yes??)

I missed him so much. And now I'm afraid I'm thinking that he's Back.  When nothing is constant.

Heard Wrecking Ball this morning, first time in forever.  (As if the past year has been a wrecking ball in his life.  Mine too, for that matter.  But he sees only the movie of his life. Can be nice to me, if he can.  But there's a lot going on.  And he needs to take care of himself)

==
Boy, I know you saw your Mom on her birthday and for Valentine's.  I think you had a marvelous time.  No drama, no challenges.  I hope it continues like that for you.  I want to talk to you! As a grownup.  Don't invest emotions (of negativity) into someone who can't offer you positive emotions when you need them.

But then, what happens when we are all happy together?  Can we trust the happy?  Can we use it for as long as it lasts?  (Understanding that its not going to last??)

How He Became the Invisible Man

Prince Charming was out of work.

This happens to them regularly.  It's the downside of being successful in this line of work.  You find the fair maiden, slay the dragon, complete the quest.  And then you have nothing to do.

This "Happily ever after" business is strict bullshit.  Being happy full time is BORING.

So, he's out of work, wandering around, hoping to do SOMETHING vaguely related to his line of work (maybe he has lots of student loans that he's gonna have to pay back in a few months, whether he's working as a Knight or as a Busboy, so he should stick with the Knight track if he can).

Walking down the street, in a strange neighborhood, he emerges from the subway and notices that nobody is talking to him.  Nobody is seeing him, even. He is suddenly rendered invisible.

Before, he was certainly the normal type of neurotic (especially as a teenager) who was convinced that EVERYONE was looking at him.  Now, he had a distinct sense that he could travel through the busiest streets, the most crowded cities, even looking people in the eyes, and NO ONE would see him.

At first, it was quite freeing.  He scared himself enough times that he wanted to figure out how to reverse the spell.  Easy.  As with many things in his capitalist society, all he had to do was pull money out of his pocket.  Engage in some kind of transaction.  I consume, therefore, I am.

And when he didn't buy anything, he could go for hours being alone & invisible.

Certainly, there were days when he didn't leave his apartment.  And the damsel whom he had married always seemed to see him when they were home.  Most of the time. (But even that he questioned, sometimes).

Mostly, he was happy to curl into a ball, to hide, to walk among the living without being bothered.  Now and then he would get lonely, and want to be seen for something other than a consumer.  It felt like  the lowest form of life.   But often, it would be too late.  He'd talk to people, asking for conversations.  And then he'd notice other invisible people.  Trying to blend into the background.

It terrified him. Not the discovery that lots of other people knew his secret of invisibility.  But that actually being visible to other people was the real trick of magic.  And he had lost the ability to evoke it.  Like losing a language, like losing speech.

It made him want to become permanently invisible.  

Wrecking Ball

There is a tremendous film trailer to be shot & cut to the song “Wrecking Ball”. For that matter, a whole movie.

About a man, a normal guy, who gets overwhelmed by exterior forces.  

Maybe he’s an overachiever type, a Superman/Prince Charming out of Central Casting.  To all appearances, he looks normal and seems to have a happy, healthy life.  Approaching 50, which probably surprises him.

As life will do, the cycles begin to come to an end. Unfortunately for him, they seem to happen in one traumatic way one after the other.  His Mum dies, maybe his childhood home gets washed away in Hurricane Sandy (dramatic visuals standing in for emotional upheaval).

He’s a likable guy, a sympathetic character.  A real man.  A real man, who cries.  

Maybe he jogs too.  Maybe the initial shots show him only in silhouette, we see his life & surroundings at sunrise.  His breath coming out in clouds, mists over fields, all is beautiful and serene.  Contrast with later scenes of storms and waves crashing all around him.

Voice over: “In a world where nothing is permanent . . .”

The real questions are: how does the movie end?  How do you make the existential crisis that is Life into something that is dramaturgically satisfying?

How to turn a metaphorical wrecking ball into a series of scenes that will give the audience faith in looking forward to end of the story? How to turn daily living into the "Happily-ever-after Hollywood-Ending"?

Maybe poetry is a better medium than film. There is more beauty in everyday details than in the climactic happy ending of a story.

A Place Where There's No Space or Time

Prince Charming would go into hibernation.  The Girl Tinkerer would go for months without seeing him or any evidence of his presence.  She imagined him as having encountered the same thistle needle as Sleeping Beauty or Rip van Winkle.  He seemed to sleep through the entire winter, like a bear in his cave.

Sometimes she would get messages on her scroll from him.  Or at least, they were signed with his name.  But she was never really sure.  It sounded more like a bear.

A week would go by, and then:“Just a note to say hi,”and she’d respond.  And somehow he’d  get mad and stop writing.  She eventually made sure not to take offense if it was a Friday, Saturday or Sunday.  She wasn’t sure why, but those days he sounded less like himself.  Whatever she thought the idea of “him” was.  

And sadly, those dark nights of winter, when the sun set in the middle of the day and made everyne sadder than usual, those were the times when she needed a friend most.  Luckily, she had her laboratory, and a voice to sing with. Looking back, she always wished she had spent less time worrying and crying, and more time creating and singing.

She had even figured out a recipe for Love.  Creating Love is actually easier than anyone thinks.  But like a good sourdough, it requires a tiny piece of the past to build on, and LOTS of patience to let it rise as it needs to.

And so, she collected a phrase he had spoken to her when he was about to cry, his heart-shaped smile when she was in trouble, the music of a casual joke he had made and spun them together, like fine and delicate sugar into cotton candy.

She tossed out all the inedible bits, the sadness, all the doubts he had, all his silences.  She picked out all the bits of inappropriate temper, all the words he said to her that came out as a snarl.  Like garlic and onions, she peeled away anger and sadness in his words, and
tossed away all that thin clinging outer layer.

Even though she was trying to be a Tinkerer, it wasn't her natural calling. Sometimes she'd be lucky or clever. Sometimes everything would just blow up in her face. But she kept persisting, because she could see things that others couldn't.

She knew that she was both cursed and blessed as a Seer. She could see him as a brother, as an ally.  Clearer than she could see the sun.  And she also knew that he couldn’t see it.  That he was trapped in a world haunted by a dragon.  That was all he was looking for, and so it was all he saw.  She didn’t have faith that she could help him, and had no hopes of “saving” him.  

But she knew he would be pivotal in her life.  That there was something that he could teach her, and maybe if she was lucky, she could return the favor.

She imagined her life as being stuck in a video game.  He held some power, some tool, some kind of life-experience points she needed to access.    Only he often refused to play the game.  

She wanted to Rage Quit, to shut it all off, try another game with characters who wanted to play.  And she did.  It was refreshing.  But none of those characters held the kind of magic she needed.  She just found herself stuck in someone else’s game.  She had absolutely zero interest in hearing how fast someone could make his new expensive car go.  Racing games only interested her if she was the driver.

So she spent a lot of her time waiting around for him.  Trying not to get sucked into the Sorrows of Despair herself.  She had looked into the Abyss and found It looking back at her.  

She tried to stay away from the Abyss.  

But some days it was hard.  Especially knowing that he spent his days at its edge. She was never sure if he was sucked in.

The Wand of Invisible Magic

Once upon a time, there was a Boy locked in an Impossibly Tall Tall Tower.
There was also a Girl in this story.  And she begged him to unravel his hair, to lower it down to her.  He was completely puzzled as to how he was intended to escape his imprisonment, as anything lowered down to the ground would only seem to only allow for access up.  And his hair wasn’t THAT long, after all.
But he Shrugged.  And let it fall where it may.
And was astonished to find that his locks reached the ground and made a perfect hair-ladder for her to climb.
In a flash, she was next to him.
“Here”, she said, “take this Invisible Magic Wand”
“Is this for Invisible Magic?” he asked, trying to be funny under the bleak circumstances.
“It’s for everything,” she said.  “It’s better than potions and magic spells and all the evil powers in the universe.  It can be used against all Dragons, everywhere.”
But he knew how strong his Dragons were.
He looked at her doubtfully.
“How is this supposed to help?”
“How can it not?  Look, you don’t think I climbed up to this Impossibly Tall Tall Tower on your bangs, do you?”
He shook his head and realized that his hair wasn’t really THAT long after all.  And that he was probably stuck in a dream or prolonged metaphor of some kind.
“So, all I have to do is wave this invisible stick and everything will be better?”
“Um, it doesn’t really work like that,” she said,
“Where’d it go?” he was suddenly annoyed that he had already lost his one magic tool, even though he knew that invisible things were especially easy to misplace.
“First of all, you can’t lose it.  It follows you around somehow.  IT waves at YOU.”
“Oh.”  He was still confused.  “And THEN everything will get better?”
“The Good News is that is protects you somehow.  Grants you a magic power you didn’t realize you had.  Or that you needed,”
“And the Bad News?”  For he knew there was always Bad News to counteract the Good.
“Duh!  The Bad News is that it’s Invisible!  So you forget that it’s there.  And it’s really hard to notice that any Magic power has been created or destroyed or whatever.  It’s not like there will be any fireworks,”
“So how do I know that it’s working?”  he asked, getting impatient and incredulous.
“Um, more Bad News.  You don’t.  You might be able to figure it out in hindsight, but, yeah, at the time, it’s pretty much gonna feel useless.”
“Oh brother!” he rolled his eyes. “Look, can’t you give me like a potion or something?”
She heaved a big sigh.  “Yeah, the Psychopharmacologists are working on that.  Their magic isn’t perfect either.  But maybe all these things in combination . . .” her rising intonation did little to appease his worries.  But, her magic had appeared out of nowhere, and that was better than the lack of magic.
Suddenly, he could hear his Dragon approaching.  Huge sounds of everything evil reached their ears and made them both wince.
“Uh-oh, gotta go!”  the girl said as she looked out of the window.
“You’re leaving me now??” he asked, now completely impatient and frustrated at the Girl’s well intentioned but utterly useless visit.  The Dragon’s footsteps were getting closer and closer, shaking the brick walls of the Impossibly Tall Tall Tower.  He felt the familiar shadow of Dread as the monster came nearer and nearer.
“Exactly the opposite,” she said as she looked deep into his eyes.  Suddenly he saw her shatter and burst into a million tiny words, like the firecracker she had said the Invisible Magic Wand wouldn’t turn into.  They swirled everywhere around him until they melted like magnets and formed a suit of armor, thicker than any Dragon’s tooth. Somehow the suit was still pliable and comfy, which was quite a relief to him as the Impossibly Tall Tall Tower began to crumble and he rode the wave of broken bricks and mortar into the valley.
He was wondering why that ride suddenly felt so familiar, and why the suit repelled dust so quickly and efficiently when he heard the Dragon’s growl ending in a coherent sentence.
“You are stuck with me!”  The Dragon roared, looking as mean as ever.
The Boy could take it no longer.  All the years of running and dreading finally got to him.  He decided to fight back in the most evil and fiercest persona he could conjure up. The universally dreaded Common American Teenager.
“So what?” the Boy roared back.
“Uh, so don’t think you can run away.  Because, um, you can’t!”  The Dragon stammered.
“Yeah, so?”  His newfound frustration reached a breaking point. “So, you’re just gonna keep chasing me?  Is that the idea?”
“That’s what my contract says, yeah,” The Dragon rested his fist on his hip.
“Can’t we like, come to an agreement about this, or something?  Work in a vacation or two?”  The Boy looked up through the visor on his suit of armor, still slightly afraid to raise it completely.  Not for fear of injury, but he knew the Dragon’s breath always stank to high heaven.
“Look, kid, you know we aren’t supposed to discuss the terms of The Curse!” Now the Dragon tried to fold his puny little arms in front of him.  
The Knight-Boy stifled a giggle.  “But what if we did?  I mean, this can’t be any fun for you.”
“Well, this is the only job I can get and still be a Dragon.  I’m not cute enough for the cartoons,” the giant Dragon began tearing up.  He knew that he himself was cursed on many levels. Not only did Kleenex not exist in this version of reality, but his teeny arms could not reach up past his shoulders.
Our hero suddenly summoned up even more courage than he realized he possessed.  As nonchalantly as he could, he leaned over some of the rubble and decided to ask the Scary Question.
“Hey.  Have you ever heard of an Invisible Magic Wand?”
“Shit!”  The Dragon snapped his fingers. “You got one of those?”
“Hand delivered not 10 minutes ago!”
The Dragon rolled his head back and sighed a giant sigh of exasperation.  The clouds above his head turned green from the fumes.  It was bad enough that the Boy had a new magic weapon, but the Dragon had no idea what it could be used for.  It’s kinda bad for your opponent to draw his secret weapon in the midst of battle, but WAY more embarrassing if he knows you failed the Secret Weapon Exam and calls you on it.
“Let me get back to you on that.  Okay, I don’t know what it means, but I know it’s gonna cause me a shitload of paperwork.  Can we meet back here again in another couple of weeks?”

This dance was the part of the negotiation they both knew they were lying about.  They never kept their appointments.  Which was one of the excuses the Dragon used for his anger.  He always had to chase the Boy, find him wherever he was and take him by surprise.  

But the Boy had been getting bigger and stronger.  And every time, he had been getting better and stronger tools.  And every time, the Dragon was just a little more injured, a little weaker, even though he would never let the Boy know.  But every time, the Boy had a just a little bit more Magic on his side.

9/4/12