I was feted this afternoon for a birthday i’m not anxious to face and sit deeply moved by the generosity of my friends. Nor is it as simple as that - for in my “secret life” romance hovers over my daily wanderings like some angel i pray to, but hide from for fear that the demon that is my heart will harm her. This year i turn 66 and all i know for certain is the distance from 66 to 67 will be shorter than the distance from 65 to 66, the same as 1 to 2 was half my life and from 2 to 3 was 1/3 - you do the math. Though the world is on fire from a plague whose destruction is as uneven as the leadership of our species, i do not feel much fear. The country i now live in, utilized effective measures to restrict outbreaks, and the educated, savvy population contributed with common sense compliance for the good of all.
It is an added responsibility for me to utilize my wherewithal in ways that blunt the economic and emotional impact and to search for language and behavior that encourages growth and optimism which could aid in financial recovery for all and hopefully the development of more robust strategies than the narrow spectrum of corporate destination-based tourism to a foundation worthy of the long history of this ancient city where i am privileged to avail myself of sanctuary. But how do i, armed with a daily 5-paragraph essay push that rock up hill, when i have difficulty pushing the rock of my own ignorance out of the way of my own wannabe open heart. It has something to do with not seeking validation from anyone for what i want, rather to peer into the cavern of my savage being and comfort the tormented child inside.
Today at lunch my cultural confusion was barely contained by the seating arrangement when i found myself sitting next to the object of my fantasies, who had been testy only hours earlier when i teased her about bringing the items she’d requested, after having been expressly forbidden the evening before to bring anything at all. She is under extraordinary duress having built her life around a homestay that now stands empty with the prospect of open borders receding further into the future rather than advancing forward toward her hopes. My words of encouragement feel hollow and i feel powerless to help her nurture the terrain of desires. The best thing that i can do is to continue on my path - seeing her when i am allowed and trying to better understand a common ground which seems to provoke kindness from her toward me however much spiked with a chronic disapproval i do not understand.
Where i sit writing now is the new Dingo Deli location that is, as i type, in the midst of labor pains, seeking solid ground even as the rug of its customer base has been yanked out from under its faithful proprietor by a capricious world doing what Bob Dylan sang about decades ago - “Seems sick and it’s hungry; it’s tired and it’s torn. It looks like it’s a dying and it’s hardly been born.” What’s awkward is the contrast between where i’d been comfortable writing previously, but has now become an act of faith and solidarity with a vision i don't fathom and which seems at odds with itself; making a customer comfortable. Even just now, the shade cover is being cranked open during the late afternoon heat of the sultry weather of this South East Asian nation facing the imminent arrival of a typhoon · maybe it's to showcase the heavenly view he literally moved heaven and earth to achieve for his clients, i d k ¿?
The ambience i so enjoyed in the previous location, was as i have learned a petri dish for digital nomads to explore new excesses in nonchalant lounging and “poser arrogance”. The wayfarers who shift from nation to nation have earned little regard from me, a personal resistance i do not entirely understand but accept that the digital vagabond is an ethos i shrink from. My friend the proprietor had had enough of their affected behavior in the previous location and so formatted his new location, cafeteria style with open seating designed to minimize the statistical time spent by the average client coming to spend money - i can understand that however much i preferred the ambience of the former. Even “she who would be queen” commented astutely on the new location lacking ambience - she surprises me at times with a not entirely unexpected acuity about her observations · only just this afternoon revealing the basis for her reservations about a mutual acquaintance, “he’s wants to know too much.” I think i’ll just remain patient and maybe learn someday why she hasn’t entirely dismissed me from the pantheon of her "distant" admirers.
jts 16/09/2020
http://stoanartst.blogspot.com
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