Places

Sometimes I consider what it might be like living in LA with sweltering Hollywood Nights that glisten with sweat. Where a slight mania permeates the atmosphere, high on the constant thrill of possibility. No one bats an eye if you dance, or roller skate, or wear outrageous colors. Bougainvillea draped over the neighborhoods and palm tree double vision—the exploration of an urban frontier that feels like a lucid fever dream. The dusty wheel of fortune churning through bright fires and Santa Ana winds. Wear whatever you like, be whoever you like—no sin is too big or too small, and you can still be a saint.

Sometimes I consider what it might be like choosing somewhere like Missoula with sub-zero temperatures and silence. Great, open expanses where I might enjoy letting the more feral and wild part of myself roam mysterious mountain backroads locking eyes with other wild things. A sense of consistency as faces become friendly and familiar. The smell of diesel from old Fords possessed from necessity rather than symbolism. Enough room to grow in all directions and roaring wood stoves with a 360 view of mountain ranges—over and over again reminded “you are small, and you are here” What it is to be possessed by the emotion of waking up early on a frigid morning and seeing the pink light of the sun peeking over the mountains. Top headlines about power outages caused by frogs or a bobcat fished from a lake. A forgotten time, a forgotten place and thank god for that.

New York City sometimes calls my name in its fanfare and cacphony. No one cares, and thank god for that. Live jazz on a rainy night. Traveling through the arteries beneath the skin of the city that heaves with the lives and stories of 6.5 million people. Nothing off limits. Directness not called into question, but appreciated.

That’s not all that I imagine, but it exemplifies the multifaceted soul with its seemingly endless kaleidoscope of multitudes and possibilities. And to make a decision, to pick a direction feels like snuffing out other bright futures and reducing a polygon to a line, but indecision is deadly. The preservation of possibilities is futile—your life is organic, and all of your possibilities will continue to ripen on the vine and then drop to ruin without your ever having even touched a single piece.

Choose a self and a place and savor it. It doesn’t matter if it was the best one so long as you sink your teeth into it and let it feed you.