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October 02, 2002
I have Philadelphians in my apartment this week, Jim Houser and Becky Westcott. They're in a show together at the New Image; the opening is Saturday and you should go if you're in LA. But the point is, whenever there are Philadelphians in my house, or when I go East for a few days which I've done many times this year, I start to wonder why I'm in LA and why I'm not in Philadelphia. It's not a total mystery, since moving costs dollars and I am not spending dollars right now (instead, I am getting debtless, which is so hot right now). And there is that whole inertia thing, as in there's no reason for me to be Not In LA right now, and I am in LA, so things are staying still. But the newlywed Jim and Becky, having spent a couple days in my apartment listening to me say things like "damn, I need to get married so I can always get the lightbulbs on the ceiling replaced!" and "damn, I need to get married so I can have sex on occasion, too!" sort of figured out which button was ripe for pushing. And Jim brought to the surface that nagging suspicion I always have every time I go out in LA and am surrounded by ladies whom I wouldn't date but whom lots of boys would, and I'm thereby utterly ignored, when he said "You would have a boyfriend in no time flat if you moved to Philly." Of course, it's not that simple… for instance Mars lives in Philly and has only half a boyfriend. And I know that living in Philly would make it easier for me to compete, but doesn't necessarily mean I'd find boys I want to compete for. But, there aren't really boys in LA I want to compete for either. I am feeling not so competitive. In fact, I'd say right now is the time in my life when I have been at my most utterly satisfied with being single… I've now lacked crushes long enough to actually get out of that "I need to find a new crush" stage and into that "Man, life is actually pretty easy when you don't have any crushes" stage. I like not thinking about it. I like not caring about what is running through any specific boy's head. And as for being single in general, I like not having to coordinate my plans with anyone – or for that matter, coordinate matching outfits. 'Cause that's always such a drain. I like the lack of drama. I like sleeping big, all over the bed. And even if I don't like not getting touched, I do like not having any sex 'n' touching issues to work through with some boyfriend character. Everyone always says how much work it is to be in a relationship, and you have to admit: not being in a relationship is not any work at all. It's super fucking easy, as long as you're not making new work for yourself by trying to get into a relationship. They should just call relationships jobs, if they're so much work, and that would clarify things for a lot of people. Cause for instance me? I already have a job, and so I don't really want another one. I think the only thing that has recently caused mental "i want a boyfriend" whining was when I started calculating down payments for houses and wished I was looking at two incomes instead of one. That and the lightbulbs on the ceiling, which is not so much about needing a boyfriend as about needing a ladder, or a tall slave. So maybe east boys vs west boys isn't even an issue. Maybe it's more about people in general, because the density of the People I Can Stand population is definitely much heavier east than west. And there's the fact that I'd be closer to my family, and to Mars, and to DC, and to Boston. And, since my job is actually in NY, it makes a touch more sense to at least live in that time zone. And be able to head up there on whims for face time. But they so don't have El Matador beach on the East Coast. And the parks there are not Griffith Park by a longshot. And I know I'm supposed to take the weather for granted here and it's true, I have a lower bitching threshhold when it comes to the distinctions between "hot," "cold," and "nice out." But almost every goddamn day, I wake up, look out my gorgeous french windows at the blue sky, and go "Fucking christ it's beautiful out." I really do. That hasn't gotten old yet. And when I fantasize about the house I'm going to buy, it has an LA garden, not a Philly garden. And I use the beach, I don't just talk about it. I go to it and I use it. I use the weather. I use the park. I use LA. I suck out its marrow, even. I don't know. I don't know what the catalyst will be that makes me move. I know I'll end up in Philly some day, unless everyone I love there moves away first. I don't know how to measure whether I'd be happier anywhere in particular when I’m not specifically unhappy. In fact I'm really really happy right now. So why introduce change? But when I sit around and make conversation with Jim and Becky, I do feel a dilemma. I do feel like there's something back home that I want back in my life. So I don't know. I'm not exactly torn, but I am certainly ripped. Ripped to the tits, to be precise. Thunk at 05:36 PM |
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