Make Believe and the Art of Forgetting

Sometimes bad things happen. Sometimes your iPod is stolen at the Safeway Starbucks. When unfortunate things happen to me- I ritually go get coffee. I sit and think. After thinking for a short period, I go to my make believe apartment. This apartment is far more interesting than any other apartment I've ever lived in. This apartment even has it's own make believe neighborhood.

It's sort of like Capitol Hill. Only more beautiful. People in my make believe neighborhood are really cool. Fortunately, none of them know it. They are well dressed. Well read. Amazing dressers. They wear leather shoes and talk about Brazilian music, primarily from the sixties.

Sometimes I watch them walk down the street from my window sill.

Well.

It's more of a window seat. Really comfortable pillows are on it, sometimes it's just really comfortable wood.

It's always Sunday morning in my neighborhood. On the most perfect Spring day. I'm wearing the most comfortable sweater and underwear. Sitting on my window seat. Listening to Belle and Sebastian. Drinking really great coffee. While I watch all of my people. Walk the streets of the most perfect little city neighborhood.

I have walls of the most beautiful shade of green. I have book shelves upon book shelves of all the most inspiring well written books that ever existed. My kitchen is perfectly stocked with tea cups and spices.


This is wear I go. Sometimes I don't leave for a few days. I drift in my "real world" , but only barely. I'm floating around. I'm talking and walking and functioning but I'm not really there. I'm elsewhere. In my green room. Where people don't die, and phone bills pay themselves. Your day job consists of writing poetry and painting. Everyone loves you and you never cry. Your friends understand and your home is truly a home.

If I ever seem distant, it's because I am. I'm in the most perfect place. And there is no need to worry.