In Wake of November

I went to New York for the first time ever this November. What is it about firsts that makes things so romantic? For three consecutive days, I froze my ass off at the Sutter stop for the L train and could only think about how lovely it is to be able to move and see things from a visitor's perspective. How sweet the people were when I circled the neighborhood four times trying to find the train stop and how eager they were to walk us through to where we needed to be. Waiting in the packed waiting area of Sake Bar Decibel for thirty minutes with people within arm's reach all around me to finally sitting and drinking yuzu sodas with Mahima like they're smooth cups of genmaicha even while being mushed besides a couple talking about their future, and all I could think about was how grateful I was to be there. Power-walking through streets and streets of Manhattan and lower Brooklyn only to find out that we're going in the wrong direction while the face chills my face to the point of numbness, and I think to myself that if only I walk a little bit faster, I'll be warm soon enough. It's a thing of beauty to continue.

Hair coupled by ribbons and the cold chill of the wind on my face means that it's November and Jenn and I are playing around Los Angeles again. We love art and love surrounding ourselves in it. We couldn't go to Hauser & Wirth, we missed Petersen by a few minutes, but somehow I felt like I finally learned my lesson in patience that the universe has been pushing me towards for the last two years. All these closed galleries forced me to walk around the biting cold looking for beauty in other things. Like the way my heart hurts, but can still find joy in seeing my friends laugh and be safe and healthy. Or the way I can sit in the middle of a party where I don't know a single person but admire the way the man from the corner of my eye holds his lover's face in his hands. And it most definitely shows up when, despite all that I've felt, I still have the pleasure of feeling. The universe has been so patient with me, the least I can do is find solace in continuing.

A couple of weeks ago, Jenn told me that we always turned heartbreak into something beautiful. I guess she's right. No matter how bad it gets, how could I abandon romance? It's always been by my side during periods of grief. November is what I always think September is supposed to be like. She's at work and I'm in her room staring at her Yoshitomo Nara posters thinking about how lovely it would be to see things through. How nice it would be to walk down the street just to stop and feel the warm embrace I prayed for to the point of lunacy in times like these. 

Tomorrow, it'll be Thanksgiving. I pictured it happening a certain way, but now I'm sure it's not going to happen -- that I won't get the heartfelt reunion I was wishing for for weeks. But I'll live and so will you and that's the beauty of continuing.