Nothing will make you feel
Quite so lonesome
As putting lotion
On your own back.
Sunday, April 28, 2019
A Moveable Feast
The first time I saw Notre Dame I was confused. From the front, it’s iconic. There are few people on the planet who would not recognize it immediately. When we walked around to the back, however, I was floored. The view from the back courtyard of the cathedral was astounding. It was the most beautiful building I had ever seen.
No one ever tells you about the back of Notre Dame. I had seen 1,000 pictures of the front straight on and never even thought, “well, what does the back look like?” The amount of detail and intricacy was incredible. You could probably look at it for hours and still notice new things to admire.
In college, a friend of mine urged me to watch Midnight in Paris and after that let me borrow a copy of A Moveable Feast. After that, all I could think about was going to Paris. Some time after that I was on a flight (Lord only knows where) and struck up a conversation with a lady next to me reading a book. I asked her about the book and as we talked I found out that she was a writer. I asked her how she keeps motivated and inspired and she told me I should start a writer’s salon. She told me how Hemingway and so many other writers and artists would meet together when they all lived in Paris. They would drink and share their work and discuss.
When I graduated from college, my sister wanted to take me on a trip to celebrate. We planned two weeks in Europe covering a few different countries. I insisted we go to Paris. I had just graduated with a degree in literature. One of the most influential authors in my life has been Hemingway. He was one of the first literary greats that I read and enjoyed and felt a connection to.
Going to Paris for the first time was a pilgrimage for me, an aspiring writer, passionate about literature, reverent of the great American authors who wandered around the world before me. After strolling around the courtyard behind Notre Dame, we walked over a bridge covered in locks put there by hopeful couples to signify the permanence of their love. Then we walked for a while just to pass by an apartment Hemingway once lived in.
I could have stayed in Paris forever. Everything about it made me happy (besides not knowing the language): drinking wine on the lawn behind the Eiffel tower, eating outside in front of cafes, sandwiches on the best bread I’ve ever had, and knowing that so many of the most influential artists of all time walked the same streets and felt the same awe as I did.
Now Paris is on fire: mass shootings, terrorism, arson. Love hurts.
Monday, April 22, 2019
Florida
To be honest I ran away from Florida. I didn’t just move. I ran away because everything about Florida reminds me of the person who taught me how to love it. By the time I move back later this year, I’ll have spent a year living in New York.
I’m something of a hopeless wanderer. I always feel like I should be going somewhere new. I have stayed here for much longer than I intended, but I’ve been restless for much of it. I’ve flown home to visit or left the state for the weekend almost every month.
I’m ready to go home now. I want to continue traveling the world but I want to have a comfortable place to call home. I want to finally unpack my boxes that have been sitting in my parents garage for over 2 years.
I want to buy a boat, an expensive cooler, a pickup truck. I want to spend days in the sun, I want to camp on islands, swim in salty water with my dog. I want to drink beer at noon— shoulders hot in the sun, toes cool in the water. I’m ready to go home.
I found a poem a while back that expresses a similar feeling about Florida, please enjoy:
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