outwait outrun outwit





TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER

an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
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08.04.02, early Sunday afternoon

I pack and calculate and trim. Pace. Call phone number after phone number. And ponder the amount of belonging I lose with each decampment, wondering Is this really worth it?

Features: Cheap. Temporary, maybe a 6-month stay. New bars. The proximity of Chinatown. Close to friends. Vegan household. Entailed: re-adjustments of relationships, of friendships many. The re-alignment of self not only to foreign train schedule but also to Oakland and Oaklanders.

Not bad, not bad at all. Tho' sometimes, I stress. What if? What if? And if I'm not careful, fear could limit my flexibility in perspective, blind to the possible strategies that just might make things easier for me. Having to re-tailor does not mean the suit is ruined.

Breathe.

Take a break. Write. Meditate, instant-mix coffee in hand, on the movement of things other than what's in your head: the fast-rolling clouds over Dolores Park, the kittens nibbling on your shoelaces, Jose pacing patiently in his cage.

Listen to inhalation, exhalation, the anxious moment in dissipation.




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