Come On Everyone, We're Gonna Go And See The Waterfall

I just found this thought/note I wrote to my friend Michelle two winters ago, deep in a daily alcoholic/overwork stupor and reveling in the classic New York displacement. I don't know if I can follow it now, but there are sections that make sense still. I think the point is to do what you want and not get too caught up in thinking about how simultaneously important and horrible everything always is.

if one place is declaratively home, it means that all other places are not. more the not being something than even the something itself. if one way is love, all other ways are not. if one idea is truth or trust or obvious, any other option falls by the side. like the emptiness of rolled eyes and the beleaguered-yet-still-holding-your-hand moments of winter. miscommunicate to remember there's an inverse, or maybe one thing is communicating and everything else you do is not, so this is one less thing you're doing that isn't communicating. when you make something there's the race for the final moment, the fulfillment of finalization. could it be part of the process to throw the process away? could it be another step to disregard every step beforehand? if something is finished one way, does it mean every other way is unfinished? never getting to the point where the restlessness of creating an idea outlives the idea itself and we see there's a pattern and maybe eating food and/or spending time with people who (both/or maybe that) make(s) you feel better than when you were starving/not with them.