today was both a strangely emotional and emotionless day. I rode a plane, which is not something I normally do (ugh this computer is non-consensually capitalizing my “I”‘s). Even rarer for me is to take a long journey without having strong feelings about where I am going or where I am leaving. But as we took off from SFO, I wasn’t filled with sadness about going, nor was I filled with excitement and/or longing for where I was headed (new York, my home area). I felt completely neutral, which was weird and disturbing. I re-read “girl goddess #9” by Francesca lia block, chosen solely because it was the lightest book in my collection that I hadn’t read in a while, and cried subtly throughout it. it triggered a lot in me. I remember the emotional resonance that book had when I first read it at sixteen, how much it felt like fucking oxygen, how it touched me in an intense place, how it created new pathways in my brain that I hadn’t been aware of. and re-reading it now, now that sixteen is half a lifetime ago, it’s almost like I cried because it reminded me of when I felt deeply, not because it actually made me feel deeply. you know?
my dad picked me up at the airport, which was nice of him (and also unusual–I generally fend for myself on public transit, i’m that kind of person, one that people don’t want to pick up anywhere because they know I can make it on my own, which is both good and bad). it was after midnight and I hadn’t eaten yet, so we went to the diner that I hung out in a lot as a teenager, because it was the only place open 24 hours (besides dunkin’ donuts). there were flat screen TV’s hanging everywhere, playing football, and the first thing I noticed when I sat down was two women–one in army fatigues, one in a shirt advertising the team playing–embracing on the football field. they had clearly been separated for a long time, and were clearly in love. they gazed into each other’s eyes, and the camera cut away before they kissed (OF COURSE) but you knew that it was happening. open dyke love, on a football field, shown at a diner in long island–I told the sixteen year old who lives within me: oh, the world has changed.