Nantucket Nectars

by stargayzer3000

mamie-gummer

I was crossing the street congratulating myself for responding to the homeless man’s request for money directly – Sorry, man – like I’m some fucking saint for saying hello to him and that got me thinking about ___ and about how my penchant for speaking to the indigent would make me more attractive to him when I saw her coming out of the café with someone whom I took to be her sister. Or I guess one of her sisters, the one that doesn’t look exactly like her. I guess it’s hard when you look so much like one of your sisters and you’re both a little odd-looking and then your other sister is a model and your mother is the most famous actress of all time. Maybe not so much hard as particular. I’ve been thinking about this a lot. How to validate different people’s experiences of difficulty, regardless of their privilege. Seems like you could spend all day thinking about this. I’m constantly nervous that what I take to be my “spiritual” approach to identity is some stealth neo-con shit taking over me via a slow release genetic program I’m unaware of. I never want to make my spiritual beliefs public ever ever ever. Other things I should keep to myself, too, like this morning in rehearsal when I said that most poets are sad drunks and everybody was Wow way to be judgmental of a whole group. So I clammed up while rolling around on the floor, quietly telling myself But it’s true it’s true.

Her hair was cropped in a bob and very bleached and she and her maybe-sister were wearing black leggings and cool sunglasses. I wondered if she lived in the neighborhood – makes sense – and if she makes enough money to. I keep having the urge to grab strangers on the street and scream HOW DO YOU AFFORD TO LIVE HERE cuz really how do they? Anyway I tried to stay just a few paces ahead of them to see if I could hear what they were talking about but then I sorta grossed myself out doing this so I tried to walk regular tempo. I’m sure famous people can tell when non-famous people are trying to hang around or follow them but can they tell when the non-famous person is in front? I’m writing about the both of them I suppose but really I just mean to write about the one of them, because she’s the one I’ve seen in stuff and because she’s the one I was really trying to listen to.

I crossed the street to prove yet again what a saint I was – SEE I’M GIVING YOU SPACE – but kept apace on the other side of the street just long enough to see them say good bye to each other in front of a sign that said BENEFIT.

 

 

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