proteanme

Twice I’ve gone out to the farm in the last 3 or 4 months and something in being there tugs at me. I dunno if it’s how it reminds me of home or camp or maybe I’ve got some kind of farming fetish. I was thinking last night that there’s something about the character of nature on small farms. There’s some about the generosity of working land. And sitting there yesterday, sitting in the little farm office over looking the fields was as beautiful as any view of Mt Hood.

Seems to me that being alive is about loving the impossibility of all or maybe the stupid improbability of it all. I’m nostalgic for the hope and heartbreak of looking for a magic answer. Those were the good ole days, man.

But I just might get my one week of summer out here.  It’s something like 95 degrees outside.  And that’s something.  That summer decided to come round just before fall creeps up on us.  Not that I’ve figured out when exactly fall happens.  Good lord, I really am an alien in this stunningly beautiful landscape.

God damn, I’m feeling heart broken these last couple days.  My therapist pointed out that I’ve been saying for a while that I wanna feel heart break — if heartbreak is what’s gonna come out of certain situations.  I just didn’t dwell a lot on how that might actually feel.  Working with my fears around flying has taught me a lot about not getting too caught up in anticipatory junk.  It’s funny, funny not being the right word at all, how your can feel so certain in your heart about some things, like loving Indiana, and how that love can’t move the mountains that make it impossible to do more than love it from a distance.  ANd me I’m not ready for loving those immovable mountains.

Although the photos don’t say it all, mostly cause there’s not one of Silvia, they do say a lot.

Last night here in the homeland. I feel strangely cut loose and solid all at the same time. I have thought of home so much this year.  Seen certain landscapes in my mind and felt such longing for the place that I thought I might be romanticizing it all.  Thought I might be wanting this sense of home to live in me more than it does.  But here I am and the home in me is beating and breathing even as I type. And that is a beautiful feeling, man.

I am not any closer to knowing what next or where next or how next or anything about nextness.  But I wasn’t coming home to answer that question.  How Indiana fits into whatever’s next has been to some degree resolved in undestanding the Indiana in me. 

It has been impossible to be here and not think about this girl in western Mass. Knowing her has helped me know myself, and at times that kinda knowing has blown me away. 

Is it really the midwest in me that makes me polite, that makes me ask people questions and listen to their stories and do them a favor and remember that their parents were just in town?  Or is it that I’m just curious or wanna deflect attention from myself.  Hmmm . . . I will leave off on this here, at least for now.

My goodness it’s hot. And to that I say right the fuck on; ’bout time you got your sexy ass over here, summer. I’m at a favorite coffee shop in the epicenter of Portland hipsterism, watching girls in tank tops and flip flops and guys in shorts and t-shirts walk by.  I’ve spotted some cool dykes, even an honest-to-god butch, as well as another butch looking one wearing a straw cowboy hat.  There’s all manner of cool dudes.  Ones wearing straw fedoras and black sunglasses, ones in cut off cowboy shirts from Goodwill, and ones sporting full arm sleeve tats framed by their wife-beaters.  There is alot of bare and it can so many girls so distracting.  The cool kids are rolling through the 4-way stop on their fixies.  No helmets, of course. I almost feel like a milk shake, but Portland’s too cool to have anything like a DQ a Tastee Freeze nearby.

This year I came out to myself as an expat, meaning I don’t think I’ll ever be an Oregonian, but always a Hoosier expatriate living some where else; in this case it’s the great north west. And as an expat I feel very heartened and at home to have spent yesterday evening in the company of a number of Hoosier friends.  One thing I noticed last night is that there was an unspoken cultural touchstone and one that I haven’t always felt or projected myself with the Hoosiers I know who live out here.  So here’s to my homeland and to the folks who are bringing it a little closer to me for a few days.  I’m happy to have you here.