I should be putting skin on the bricks when I’m applying for these jobs, but my shoes are too uncomfortable. In my 20s I had a lot of promise because I came from nothing. Now in my 30s, the expectation is that I would have built on that experience. I’m building on salted earth.
The guy at the rally yesterday said “I love you even more [for carrying the Irish flag],” implying that he already loved me just for being there. I felt solidity coming from the Irish identity—even if I am truly just an imposter hiding under cover of whiteness.
Beautiful women surround me at this cafe. The one to my right is French, here with her boyfriend. Beyond her is a British blonde with a Trader Joe’s tote. A classic sign of West Coast Americana. It should be Sainsbury’s. When I heard her accent, I thought she was having a laugh because of how much she sounds like Michael Caine.
To my left is a girl studying theology. Can’t tell if it’s her or the other one sending voice memos. Must be a crush—I can’t imagine doing that with a casual friend—except that I have done it with C–…and J– leaves me voicemail. I’ve never understood why. It’s intimate, yet child-like, uselessly sending fragments of our voice. A telephone call has the normalcy of conversation. A conversation broken into pieces has a verisimilitude like photography. And an intimacy like photography.
K– talks to me. Last time, he sent me a photo of myself but did not address me. Exactly like a serial killer—and yet, I can relate to it. This time he was doing some fake Italian posture (he’s Portuguese, if it’s the same). He doesn’t “appreciate” me or my flakiness. Calls me a flake to my face. Says it ended “weirdly.” I repeat his words back at him.
“Weird is a nice way of putting it,” he says, at a loss for what to say. I don’t have the spine to do freelance work; what’s more, I hate doing “knowledge work” more than anything. I am a flake of dust who would love to be “weird.”
I should send him what I have. It’s the least I could do, and I did a good job up until I could not be bothered. I feel like I just got beat up.