Went to the ballet with my friend Morgan the other day. I don't know much about dancing but was entertained at times. Whenever I go see an opera, a symphony, or a ballet, I usually tend to just drift off into dream like states of awareness and enjoy the environment for what it is...the details on the walls and ceilings and watching members of the orchestra and wonder about their lives. Halfway through the ballet performance, the conductor turned to the audience to introduce the new first chair oboist. She was shy and 34. The conductor praised her skill and devotion to her long awaited career to be in the best orchestra there is to be in. She said she spends 2 hours a day making reeds for her oboe and then spends roughly 3 hours practicing before coming to work for 8 hours. At the end, the conductor mentioned her 18 month old child spending lots of time at the Lincoln Center. While usually moved I am by the dedication so many musicians in symphonies display, it frightens me that this is what is expected of someone. Ballet, music, figure skating, etc. are careers that generally concern me due to the either 'for life or failure' notions. How traditional and archaic, the concept of dedicating your life from childhood up until the near end of your life to one thing...makes me feel as though my life is stupid and simultaneously smarter. I could never do that and knowing that about myself brings me comfort.

I spent the day yesterday enjoying the cool air. I woke up early and read on my favorite bench and then had a small breakfast. While I was reading, a strange Frenchman who sat next to me asked me to look up when the Guggenheim closes. He was balding and pale with dried out skin around his eyes. He had those European sneakers, the very small and flat ones, and of course he had a fanny pack that stretched around his chest and under his arm. You aren't European unless you have one. We started talking. I told him to skip the Guggenheim this trip and go to the Breuer. I also mentioned The Cloisters but warned him of it's distance and consuming time. He told me he was here only till Monday and then mentioned that he came alone and without his wife and children. He stared at me intensely and I did in fact have a strange connection to him but no attraction. I got up and left and he excitedly shook my hand like a child. I forgot about him until I started writing this.

I went upstate for the first time the other weekend. I had of course driven through but never stayed more than the time it takes to fill up a tank of gas. My friend Djuna drove Tess and I up to her family's summer home. It's a modest home with contemporary ergonomics. They have a compost garden and the house runs solely on their four solar panels. Every little thing in the 20 year old house made sense. Every nail had a purpose.
Tess and I spent a full 24 hours at Djuna's house while Djuna went off to work at a restaurant in Hudson. We had no way of leaving and had to reason to even if we could. We napped in a hammock that overlooked a valley and wandered around in a forest where we saw a snake and a rock hanging by a string from a tree. We sat by their pond and looked at the frogs and spiders. It was all very wholesome.
The next day, when we went into town, Tess and I separated because I wanted to read and be alone and she wanted to go look at the river or something. I read until the coffee shop closed and they had to bring the tables inside and then I walked towards to river to find Tess. I saw one hot guy and then decided that I was moving there but that idea vanished after a few hours. Our friend Yoma got off the train from the city around 9pm and we got drunk and broke ceramic plates in the street. I felt very different up there, much more destructive and elevated in a bad way. Like I was levitating on Chris Angel: Mindfreak or something. Was glad to be back in the city after 3 days of spiders and frogs and hanging rocks.

I've been feeling very lucky lately. Grateful is probably a better word but lucky is more exciting and I feel more excited. I have been less paranoid and anxious and feeling more at ease and relaxed. Yesterday, in the late afternoon, I walked over to the basketball courts on Houston and Forsyth to watch my old love, Reilly, play basketball. I was terribly mad for him at one point but now we are great friends. I played basketball with him. My heeled loafers and skirt were not too convenient for this but I prevailed and remained steadfast. We gossiped and made fun of each other's seemingly low and empty lives. "If I make this shot, we are getting married." He said. The ball went through the basket swiftly and I jumped into arms, elated. He held me like a baby and said, "Okay, if I can get this in while holding you, we are getting a divorce." He got that one in too and I was devastated. Reilly always turns me into such an actress.