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what it is
I so meant to be the kind of person that manages to throw together an end-of-the-year wrap up of sorts, trying to contextualize what I’ve learned and what I’m putting behind me. But it just didn’t happen. Possibly because my birthday rolled into generalized holiday debauchery, followed by a merry kegmas followed by a happy drugmas and an out-of-hand new year’s eve at my house.
And just when you thought it was safe to roll into some kind of new-year-resolute sobriety, every single venue of any repute wants to get in on Free Week, which started on January 1st. Of all the frickin nerve.
I don’t quite know what it is, but 28 and 2010 feel terribly auspicious. The year ended on a very high, if very sloppy note. Is my car, life or body fixed? Um yeah, not quite yet. But I have at last moved past the dispute with my best friend that so thoroughly discolored the majority of this year. Oops, make that last year. I am still tempted to let the despair of everything in my life feeling so not okay overwhelm me. But then I remember! That’s last year’s tiredass story.
Also keeping me way up in the clouds is an anonymous angel I have come to refer to as ‘The Black Envelopist.’ I just nerdily searched through my December tweets to try and get a nail on exactly these mysteries started dropping into my lap. Sometime in December shall we say, I got a small black envelope with no return address. Inside was a card, with a sort of collaged cover and the phrase “I do not think that they will sing to me,” followed by an inside page with several clues to certain words and lines. A little iinternet research revealed that the line was from TS Eliot’s ‘Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,’ so I put together the corresponding lines/words and voila! A question! And an email address!
The answer was clear. Whoever this was and whatever their motivation for asking me to play this game, OF COURSE I wanted to play it. There have since been several emails, one other black envelope, two trips to obscure yet familiar locales for clue-chasing and an incalculable collection of moments of complete, giggly wonder. Knowing who this person IS is secondary to the delight the game is bringing me. And the second layer of the game is obviously reading VOLUMES into the smirkful denials of my lead suspects. Hey, it’s not like I can divorce myself from my inherent and cat-like curiosity.
Anyway. That’s the jam that’s taking my life over right now and seems by far the likeliest thing that’s gonna muse me into a new phase of inspiration and motivation. If you’re reading this, my Black Envelopist, YOU RULE.
