i worry

i worry.  i worry that i consume too much/not food—well, maybe a little worry there/but that i consume too many objects/paintings/pottery/plants.  i worry that i worry about this.  once m. & i had dinner at an architect’s house/new friend (for about 5 minutes in gay time) his abode was stunning/stunningly empty & every object was spotlit/sparse/solitaire.  he takes me by the hand to show me his glass collection (both pieces, okay maybe there were 5, i don’t remember how many exactly [something else to worry about] all were exquisitely displayed,) but completely drained of personality which made worry about what kind of person lived here or could live here (his house—i wouldn’t have called it a home) what should’ve worried me, but didn’t at the time, was that he had taken me by the hand—as i later find out, was a ‘move’ on his part, i totally missed the signals when they should’ve been obvious since there was nothing in his house to distract me from paying attention to minor gay details such as hand-holding by the host, he may’ve even patted my hand or stroked my wrist—i was trying so hard (because i worry) to be the gracious guest and ooh & aah over every little detail/how little detail there was too ooh & aah over made me worry that i was being a tad over solicitous — was i sending smoke signals when there was no fire/misread?  no, no, all him, not me, m. assured me after we left & i had expressed my worry to him.  of course, m. said to me ‘i could not live like that.’  so i still worry that i consume too much/& what it might say about me/i don’t want it taking over my life, but i worry that it might be too late/that i’ve/we’ve taken that final exit into spinster aunt-hood, for christ’s sake there’s a crocheted doily under the fucking cherry pie pot/carrier which a friend gave us (fitz & floyd how i love you) and we’ve never used, but love anyway.

i worry.  i worry that being gay is going to be more difficult than it already is.  i worry that we won’t ever have equal rights.  i worry that my neighbors denied me equal rights.  i worry that m. will die before me (true that.)  i worry that i’ll be all alone in socal, which i loathe (except for its beauty.)  i worry that i’ll lose my job.  i worry that people won’t buy art anymore, because everything is free on the internet & copyright will be a thing of the past & the elderly (me) will say ‘why, i had to negotiate the copyright agreements when i was your age & it didn’t stop me from enjoying life’/in the similar vein that ‘i walked 7 miles to school,’ shit your parents/parent/parent’s parents dished out in the last century to your parents/me (except i think my mother did have to walk a long way to school in the miserable wyoming winters with only newspaper to wrap her feet in so they wouldn’t freeze/frostbite still a worry in that ‘great depression.’)  i worry that i worry.  and then i don’t for some time/maybe hours/minutes/seconds/days/weeks/months (that’s not true, months that is) because something/someone/some object/painting/pot/plant/animal/friend/lover/neighbor/boss/associate/blog (multiple ones)/tumblr takes my mind off my worries.  thank you, i’m better now, maybe even a little corner of my lips turned up in a smile-kind-of-better, however briefly, before the next worry creeps up behind me on little cat’s paws and covers my eyes & says ‘guess who?’


4 Responses to “i worry”

  1. March 11, 2012 at 4:57 pm

    I have just about every one of those emotions and some of those things. (Not quite as much Roseville pottery, but give me time.) What I have come to observe is that a number of people I know who are in a far more vulnerable state than I don’t worry when I feel that they should — i.e., one in particular who is way overweight and still eats pizza, is out of work and not looking, etc. etc. I think that if I am not worrying, then I really have serious reason to be worried. So perhaps the fact that I am worried all the time is reason to not worry, but I will still worry just to be save.

  2. 3 babylonbaroque
    March 13, 2012 at 10:23 pm

    Well I can certainly relate, I certainly consume too much, thank goodness for that. Thank goodness we are blessed with a little extra to make life even more enjoyable. Of course I fret about money and my perfect LA friends (usually gay) who live in those chaste temples to “Taste”; but it isn’t my taste. It seems colorless and dull, without spirit or interest. I say collect while we can, enjoy our diverse interests, explore and hope for the best. Try to make something at least as often as you buy something, that cherry pie perhaps…
    Only thing that puzzles me is your belief in the Socal beauty , I confess I just don’t “get” southern california, it is pleasant temperature wise but it doesn’t seem terribly pretty to me. i miss ferns. As soon as we can we are moving north or even better back home, eastward.
    Take care my friend,

    • March 14, 2012 at 5:11 am

      We’re very fortunate to live on the side of a coastal canyon just a short walk away from a grand sweep of ocean and wilderness park. I try to make the best of what I’ve got to work with (this from a Chicagoan.)

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© Robert Patrick, and Cultivar, 2008-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts, photographs and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Robert Patrick and Cultivar with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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