Sunday, December 14, 2003

Continuance of a Random Life

dinner with friends and the ashes of an inadvertent saint

Last Monday I stood on the steps of the Smithsonian Castle in Washington, D.C., and was able for the first time to see clearly the Washington Monument at one end of the mall and the Capitol building at the other. One year previous to that moment I was working twelve hour shifts split between being a movie theater usher in Cobb County, GA, and night stocking at the Target across the street.

I stood on the castle steps for a minute or so and thought about the above facts. The air was cold and clear, and unlike my previous trips to D.C. in the tourist season, early December left the streets nearly bare in the afternoon. There was little noise or color to distract me, and I could admire the architectural planning that had laid out one of my favorite places to visit in the whole world. I do not pretend to understand how I am so lucky to get to do and see the things that I do in the world, nor do I fully comprehend the random sequence of events that has led me to my current job, without which I surely be on management track with Borders or a movie theater chain. Sometimes I simply stand out in the cold and take a minute to look at the people and buildings I'm around, and know that the world is a beautiful, brutal place, and through all the pain and joy I am simply happy to draw one breath after another.

This year is ending. Another will soon start. There is no way to know where I will be on any random Monday, twelve months from now.

Inside the Smithsonian Castle, just to your left in a vestibule, are the ashes of Mr. Smithson who accidentally built most of the museums I enjoy in D.C. He didn't mean for his money to benefit me at all. He meant for his nephew to settle down, writing in his will that the money would go to museums in America unless his wild Italian nephew, the last living blood relative had children. All the nephew had to do was procreate; instead, thanks to his gay way, the money came here and 150 years later scads of school children see the bones of a mastodon.

Because life is random that way.

I was in DC to work, but happily had IHOP with wgSarah late Sunday night, and lovely vegetarian meal in Tacoma Park with the fabulous Mat and Emily Monday night. I love how creative the people I know are. Sarah is busily providing internet writer's with a place to stash their stuff. Mat and Emily fantasized about living by their music and design during dinner.

They are all successful and creative and doing well. I suppose I am too.

I want to make a comic book. I just need...collaboration. Spark. Money and time. I'm ready for the next big thing.

For a while Monday afternoon I sat in the basement of the National Gallery and looked at sculpture and thought about a) how I think Rodin is over-rated, b) how it is that I know so many awesome creative people, and c) when I was going to get off my ass and do the graphic novel.

So here's my New Year's Resolution, folks: You will see the fruits of my imagination in 12 months, come hell or high water. I promise.


The D.C. Metro systems rocks.

P. P. S.

So to Emily, Mat, and Sarah.

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