all tomorrow’s parties

“And what costume shall a poor boy wear, to all tomorrow’s parties?” – Velvet Underground (slightly amended)

I listened to this song in the Camry Saturday morning on the way to drink a coffee by myself in the Mission Hills Starbucks. I listened to it a couple of times. There was something of a sub-sonic connection with the question, lightning bolt, the wondering, right away – a Zap!!! – this like being in a place of not knowing which way, and what now, and what’s the deal with this life I have left. Keep working, stop working? Change jobs, add jobs? Give up selling art and books, get crazier hawking those very created things? Write more, write less? Paint or don’t paint? Fade into the background or full-on guerilla theater? Should I stay or should I go stuff. And the sort of metaphor of costume. Which I dig. Whatever should I put on this morning?

These are questions, some of them, and they’re real for me here in late May ’24. I don’t feel crazed or stressed or lost or blessed or awakened or suffering in the space within them. There’s just a ‘don’t know now what’ feel with my life this Monday. Plus, I needed something for the Blog.

And yeah. What costume shall a poor boy (girl) wear? Feels like a cool question.