Just stop being sad! It is that easy folks. Maybe you don’t know why you’re sad, maybe you drank too much Nyquil, maybe it’s Maybelline. Isn’t it better to NOT be sad? Isn’t it better to pretend that every interaction has magic, that every loud noise is a heavenly song, that every time your eyebags get lower, it’s actually heroin chic fashion, that you are LOVING every second of every inch of every little thing you, see? Wouldn’t it be better to be normal?
Our air BnB host has had construction going on right outside our door for two weeks now. Every time I leave the apt, the construction guys apologize. I want to kiss them and tell them it’s not your fault. On Christmas Eve he made them work till 7 PM. 7 PM!!!! I know they have families, because they eat packed lunches and talk about their wives in Spanish. I hear the host be mean to them, snappy and short, a low vibe angry old man. I hear the workers talking shit in Spanish, they’re pretty funny, I’ve been practicing my Duolingo every day. I want to eat lunch with them and talk shit about him too.
The hold this bitch has on me…. I know she’s so normcore but I’m trying to lean into that okay!!!! I just love her. She’s a Muslim woman who was originally a gift for Egypt and then was REGIFTED to the USA. They got rid of her hijab and gave her some basic crown, they tried to whitewash her, but we know the truth. We see you, Miss Liberty!!! I went to the pier yesterday to stare at her. Usually, I go every day or two just to look…Yesterday the sky was clear, the day was beautiful and bright, and Miss Liberty was in focus. When I looked at her, I got a searing headache. I’ve never had a headache like that, it was blinding, like fireworks exploding in my brain, a car bomb behind my closed eyes. It was almost like she was communicating or trying to. And as soon as I left the pier, stumbling home as a group of French people bustled past to take my spot, the headache went away. I’m listening Miss Liberty; I’ll be back to receive your message. Please tell me how to stop being sad.
I’m horrified to be an American. I’m ashamed my tax dollars are funding a genocide; I feel so hurt that 20,000+ Palestinians have been killed in a one-sided war that our government is funding. Maybe miss Liberty is ashamed too. Maybe she’s hurting. Maybe she doesn’t want to be the beacon of a bloodthirsty country anymore. Maybe she’s asking me to free her, to sink her to the bottom of the Hudson, to send her away.
There’s not much I can do except try not to be sad. I listen to the construction, the endless pounding on the stairs, the sanding of the walls (??), to the guys talking to their wives on the phone. Una mas hora mi amor. One more hour….One more hour and maybe things will change. One more hour and maybe Miss Liberty will grow some feet and run away. One more hour and maybe innocent Palestinians will stop being murdered. One more hour and maybe I won’t be as sad. One more hour. One more.