such a fun age.
“i dreamt and still dream…”
i think a lot about a weekend in tokyo, visiting an old friend who worked at a boutique. her friends did, too. they received a new piece every collection. louis vuitton, issey miyake. prada, and they went out just like that. trendy and elegant, sans pretentious attitudes, fanfaring it all in an izakaya. karaoke from night ’til morning.
i think about san francisco evenings with another friend, an architect, who dreams up buildings in the morning, crafts them around noon, him and underrated restaurants, talking at tables as if we were the only two there, about films, about books, about fiction’s relation to fiction, how we’ve applied it to our own realities. in our own laughter, i dreamt and still dream of
the bloomsbury group. studio 54. des salons. the supper clubs. everyone in their best-dressed, discussing high brow ideas, dabbling in lowbrow mischief. concoctions of introverts and extroverts that bred all things art. I think a lot about truman capote, who went to steak dinners, chatting up elizabeth taylor and others, only to come home to a closet-sized room at the YMCA.
now, we have discords and threads online, but they’re not the same. they lack spirit. they’re bunched up with consumers tied to the verb form of themselves, bland nouns that know how to quickly regurgitate information, indefinitely.
“…my present tense will always be such a fun age.”
see, i’m more interested in the fun of ages versus age itself. i’ve always been a fan of bars with mixed crowds, older people, younger people, and reject my contemporaries. call me pompous, call me melodramatic, but
my present tense will always be such a fun age.
