domenica 4 luglio 2010



According to, friday was supposed to be the best day of my year. The explanation is all very scientific, of course, but it's due mostly to venus and uranus meeting in pisces and moving into my house of true love (probably the basement). I think mars factors in somewhere, too. It was raining for the most part, and there was a transportation strike. I skipped the gym, and aside from doing four lessons, failed in doing anything particularly productive. Thats it, then. ive peaked. I'm going to spend the next three-hundred-six days curled up next to a steady rotation of elliott smith albums, waiting for 2011. The "best day of the year” prediction sparked an interesting conversation with ronde that night. Hed wanted to celebrate finishing a big project for work, and I was ashamed at how id passed the best day of the year; so we drank tea and watched the san remo festival on Rai 1. His ideal day is remarkably similar to mine: wake up in bed beside someone nice, have a good coffee, unfiltered creation, spontaneity, art, fun, sex, and the sort of conversation that's as profound as it is easy, all while nicely-dressed. Its all fantasy, of course, in its own way. Anyway i went home. J. called me at ten-to-one after i was already in bed. Karaoke on the naviglio pavese. So i dressed, put in my contacts, and got a beer at the colonne on my way down to the canals. I met some guys from england and we sang ‘wonderwall’ after id finished my negroni. On saturday morning i woke up super early. I was hungover, and had my coffee, did some situps at the gym. Then S. sent me a message: ‘hai visto che bella!? poi se hai tempo possiamo andare al parco primo che andiamo alla mostra. tra un po’ esco di casa, ci troviamo in duomo verso le 12,15?’ I hope that you understand italian, because the answer to that is ‘yes, definitely.’ We went to a steve mccury exhibit and while i waited in line he got panzerotti from luini, next to prada. Then we people-watched at duomo (its fashion week), went back to my place, and downloaded the songs from last night. We had a beer and from the balcony we saw the sun set behind the alps, which of course led to third base before the metro closed at 12,05. and there it is. february 27th.
Aside from how you define ‘unfiltered creation’ and ‘sex,’ it seems like it was a pretty good day, much better than ‘the best day of my year.’ a hipster would cry lack of originality, but given my recent (wine-induced) conversations with the creative process, its all ive got. the thing is, though, is that its pretty much just a standard saturday, the only difference being that the sun finally came out and that i had a chance to wear my bowling shoes and sunglasses instead of boots and an umbrella. the moral of the story is that right now in this moment things are pretty good in general even on a sort of boring day. it takes perspective. theres only one element missing from achieving my ideal day on a regular basis: creative productivity. given the people i know, theres no excuse. various creatives in this house are busting my ass, and i appreciate it. i have a very important play to write, and a handful of willing people to give me advice. i have everything i need, except the ability to let go of my fear of making unabashed shit. dare to fail and all that. tomorrow will probably be another ideal day.

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