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two more years

low res ma

12/04

remixxx

my worst fear

low res

the rush

thanksgiving plans are being formulated by everyone, which day they will escape: the dread of traveling on or near the busiest travel day of the year, the awkward reunions between family members and not-so-old friends, and the amount of time devoted to sleeping. i too am excited about all these, constructing the list and calculating the number of theater releases that i can see before 6:00 in order to pay the matinee price of $5.50, some of the treasures of living outside new york.

this will be the first time returning home for me after the longest period of time away from home i have had. the truth of the matter is that i have been hiding from what my home is. although it has been sometime since my parents have sold my childhood home, and have separated, and sometime since my mother has moved to the midwest, and my new family home being rearranged for resale, and i sold the my first car, and have been ashamed by someone who i thought loved me – home just seems to condense so much change into a single time and place. you look around and see what isn’t around anymore. sometimes this is as simple as something misplaced in a room, or this can be the absence of a person, or an emotion. home isn’t just about missing – of course there is so much wealth there. for me it is hearing the same stories told by my blushing memere while she sips one of two alcoholic beverages that she consumes a year outside of communion wine or getting a hands-on lesson for some kind of woodworking machine by my uncle who keeps on reiterating how i can make such intercede models using a specific cut despite not attending architecture school for some 3 years now. i love these moments. i will never correct my uncle because of his admit detail and concern. i won’t finish my memere’s story because the punch-line is always better from her. these moments are perfect in their staleness: this is what home is.

with my mother not attending the thanksgiving festivities, and my families new house set for others to see, and my car – the sources of an after-dinner escape (the best bonding time between my cousin, brother, and myself) gone what will fill the gap? i am indeed excited to clock in exceptional hours of sleep, television an movie watching, but thinking of these moments of extreme new and awkwardness where familiarity and custom should be are horrifying. sometimes i would give anything to feel the false comfort that these attributes gave me – even if they where stationed in the static space that is home. this must be growing up. i wish i wasn’t sober.