I hear loud machinery rumbling outside. Go-go-gadget noise canceling headphones. Ahh much better.
The view below my window is increasingly dismal. When I see the red and white graffiti spreading across the abandoned brick building in front of the bus stop, the artist in me wants to go down there and make it more artful. This could be cool urban street art, instead of post-apocalyptic Compton vibes. I'd add more colors. Some imagery instead of artless tagging. I'd bob-ross some happy little trees. Let's see some effort, kids.
9 floors below me is a biblical scene, I imagine them like lepers in ancient Jerusalem hunched over, drugged and limping, selling stolen goods on the sidewalk, building small fires to keep warm. Sometimes I imagine it's a shtetl. Maybe this is what Whitechapel was like in 1817.
The cops are outside so often that they sometimes stay parked all day. Better to look at the sky than the scene below. Better to watch the elderly people doing Tai Chi in the courtyard. It's as if we live in a walled city within a city. I feel like a noblewoman in a tower, longing to go outside but knowing it's not safe by foot.
This city must've been amazing in the era of horses and carriages. In Sevilla I loved the sounds of hooves on cobbled streets. The aromatic orange trees Seville is famous for were planted to mask the stench of horse poop. Being raised rural, I don't mind a few barnyard smells -- outdoors. I miss playing in barns and collecting bones...
My seagull neighbor found a mate and soon again I'll see three newly hatched babies stretching their necks from their rooftop nest directly outside my eastern window. The birds have excellent taste -- they chose to live in the historical building that resembles a French chateau. That's a view I don't mind having. I love that building.
I'm envious of whoever lives across from the cathedral, their windows peering into the stained glass rosette and French gothic revival spires. I'm as far from Catholic as one can be, but I appreciate architecture. Any excuse to insert "flying buttress" into a sentence.
Last night I attended an open mic in virtual reality. It was entertaining, even if half the performers sang utterly terrible. I hoped someone would share poetry, or anything original, but everyone just sang along with their iphones like shitty karaoke. Maybe I should be a trailblazer and show up next week with one of the songs I've written and composed, or one of my poems. Might it inspire someone else to dare to be different as well?
I've been to many poetry readings and always wanted to share mine, but was too nervous, and surrounded by real talent. But in vr I'm anonymous, and judging by last night's talent pool, it wouldn't take much to blow everyone's mind. This is my big chance to do something I was too chicken shit to do in person, without fear. I can be as raw, vulnerable, and expressive as I like in vr space. I'll try taking the virtual stage next week and will report back how it went. I plan to take it 1000x more seriously artistically than anyone should. It'll be fun. I'm not worried about how it will be received because I know they'll be kind and encouraging regardless. They're an incredibly supportive group of people, a band of misfits with low expectations, just there for a good time, not there to judge or compete. The perfect captive audience to torture with my art! A safe testing ground to practice.
- 2023-03-13