Yesterday my cousin and I went to a Guy DeBord film festival at Lincoln Center… and found ourselves genuinely preferring our own lives, and our own opportunities, over the spectacle that DeBord created to deride the spectacle… or as my cuz said, “deconstructing the master’s house with the master’s tools.”
We walked down Broadway from 66th street to the bottom of Manhattan Island, wrapped but not chilled by the damp pre-blizzard air, holding perfectly round oranges in our mittened hands, nearly stolen from Whole Foods but technically purchased for much less than their real value, causing quiet ruckuses, having loud philosophical discussions passing through Times Square and in a way disrupting the endless noise that is that intersection…
Thinking not about the elements of our lives, but the overarching themes, the wonders of how WE DECIDE to live.
And today I am awake to a winter wonderland… in like a lion, this March. I have already been productive. And I will continue to accomplish, because whenever I spend a day following the threads of life with my cousin, we always find the spool again… The spool that I lose every other week, for so long. She helps me find and follow the plot again. She’s not a checkmark on my to-do list… she’s the pen that gives me the new ink with which to make the marks.
I love you, cuz.
