I bought Madeline a bed. Before I did that, I went up to New York to
Erin Linguard’s flight to Philly got cancelled and I had a window time that I wasn’t anticipating. I made alright use of it. I got a library card and a bike. The bike is pretty sweet. I put a front rack on it, but aside from that it was ready to roll. It has a kickstand, and front and rear reflectors and front and rear brakes. I bought a helmet and a lock too. I made a trip up to New York, as per a plan I’d been working on with Madeline. I was there to see the Met shows, Hockney, and Michelangelo. I woke early and boarded a Chinatown bus from Philly to New York City. When I got there, I, instead of going straight to a subway where I could catch a train uptown, I lingered around. Chinatown is hands down where I spend the majority of my pedestrian time in New York, and aside from that I tend to sleep in Brooklyn. I re-stomped some familiar trails subconsciously and on Eldridge, oriented myself to an unassuming door the had two metal stairs leading up to it and the number 293 in stickers on the door. A wild hair struck me, what if I didn’t go to the Met today, would that be so bad, and I reached out to the door knob and gave it a check. At first it seemed like it was locked, but I gave it a jimmy and pushed, and behold did it open. Inside was a small coat room, and a large partition wall that obscured the meat of the room, but in the draftway I saw reassurance- a draughtsman with a marking tool and a drawing board, eyes ticking like a clock into the obscured center of the room and back down to his page. I took off my coat and joined them. It was a full house, long pose, and I got a good drawing. Bob was the monitor and I told him sorry I’m late, that I’d just got off a bus from Philly, and how much was it, fifteen dollars? And he said don’t worry about that, and at the end if it was worth it, and I said absolutely, and he offered that I stay for the next session, which I did. The next session went brilliantly as well. I felt inept to capture the model’s beauty, which brought me much pain. I’ll have to review the sketches again. I got one that was special, and thanked the model afterward, and noted that it had been an inspiring set. I met Madeline afterward at her school. Aside from the museum visits, this trip was heavy duty wooing time, for which I wooed and wooed in the margins of our respective motorings out. I don’t know what came over me, but it came and came. I was curious as to my intent, for which I feel unqualified to diagnose. Mind roads made tangents into dark and light passages alike. All the while, and what’s most liberating is abstaining from attachment of narratives. I mentioned I would get Madeline a bed upon her mention that she come visit me in Philly. She’s signed up for a course on Fridays down here, and I proposed a Friday afternoons prospectus for us, with a personal understanding that it’s going to be a lot of weight on our friendship, and that it may be hopeful thinking; a want for time in what I will make a timeless semester, a forecast; sunny with a chance of buckling. I made allusions to proposals. It would seem that I would care more if I were fucking with her, or likewise if I were attached to some outcome specifically, but I’m not, you know, or do I, and that’s the kind-of non-problem. I care, I care about our friendship and would like that it continue on. I want to do good by her, and for her. As my friend Luke said when I asked him about his relationship (because I thought, and said, I feel like I shouldn’t meet anyone in a couple because I’m nervous that I would fuck it up), and he said very sincerely and honestly that he doesn’t think it’s something that could be fucked up. So that’s the special thing I feel about Madeline in the short term, and either I’ve become ready and satisfied with my own self, and forgiven myself sufficiently enough that I can forgive and be patient with others etc., but it doesn’t feel like something that could be fucked up. So I’m working on earning her trust, and in the short term, laying it on and hoping it’s not too heavy. What I like about her is that she’s independent. So I bought this bed tonight when I got back from NYC, put it together, and let her know, and she texted me “Why do I feel like I’ve been proposed to?” , and all I could say was that it wasn’t unfounded.
Truth is anyone can use the bed. Truth is I’m not going to use the bed.
