NYC Diary #26
MONDAY
7:22 a.m. I don’t think writing makes you feel better. Or changes anything about your life. I think it’s a compulsion. People that feel they’re transformed by writing are giving Oprah’s bookclub. Please. Move on.
You do it because you have to do it. Making an art object promises nothing about changing your life.
At best, there’s the ten minute high after writing something you like. Like after fucking. Or after buying something extravagant. But fucking and shopping won’t change your life. Maybe nothing will actually. Maybe we’re all just lost forever and as Chet Baker says, let’s get lost.
Looking for meaning has ruined my life.
9:01 a.m. I love my students. I’m not going to have children. But they feel like my children. I also think this generation, the late Gen Zs, really get me.
11:13 p.m. I’m at Casino with my friend S and she’s like, you hang out with too many women. Start putting that energy into men that are going to love you. It’s so severe. But it’s so real.
Lately I’ve been having the hardest Mondays. But then my friend R was like, even when you’re having the hardest days and doing so bad, you’re so totally yourself. I don’t know why but that made me feel better.