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Ed Ruscha, Optics (1967)

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it’s lick your wounds Tuesday

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what general advice can you give a girl today?

get off your phone

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Paris in June, a few days before I left…having realized perhaps the trip was taken in vain, to avoid the thing that must be felt in order to live. Pearls of wisdom were uncovered nonetheless.

I was staging an amorous fantasy with a familiar stranger, and consequently, I shook beside him in sleep with dreams of the beloved I subconsciously set out to escape. When I woke on my final morning I knew I had to leave both of them in that bed, one an idea, the other a memory.

On the ride to the airport, I caught a glimpse of the driver in the rear view as the car dragged lazily in the center lane. I watched as his forward gaze softened, his eyelids falling gently like a velvet curtain. As soon as they shut, he jolted upright and met my eyes in the mirror. On the plane, I ate two expensive bags of seemingly ancient pretzels and watched Blade Runner with no sound.

I’m thankful to my dear friend who was in the weeds with me and took this photo, I hope she forgives me for all the longing…

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I held you under our candlelit shower and i felt whole again

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glazy

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A real memory, restaged countless times in dreams— is it still memory? Diluted and touched so intimately by the imagination, it creates an illusory past-future…what is left of the memory?