It quite literally took everything in me to turn off of I70 this morning, turn away from the mountains. (I so want another weekend with the boys in the mountains.) The car was freezing, but I had my coffee, heater blaring on me, had a horror novel playing over the speakers, and fog surrounded me on all sides. Honestly, if I hadn’t known that the fog would soon leave, the day would truly soon begin, and the moment would be lost at any rate, I probably wouldn’t have been able to ignore the impulse. Not sure what I love so much about that specific recipe of environmental factors, but it always has a soothing effect on me, has the ability to anesthetize my brain.
I heard back from Daniel Lazar last night, much sooner than anticipated. He was the agent that I had such a great gut feeling about. He is ‘afraid [my] project does not seem right for [their] list.’ For some reason, this one hit me harder than any of the others, even more than the rejection from Kensington. It really messes with me when my gut feelings are so off base. I truly didn’t think I was forcing whatever emotion that was. It was actually surprising to me—how at peace I felt after I sent it to him, like I had just made the bridge that would take me to the other side. Apparently not, it seems. If not for that feeling, it just would have been one more rejection, not a big deal at this point—they’re kinda second nature—in love and writing. However, I let my emotions, unintentionally, get involved on this one. You’d think I’d learn that lesson by now. Turn it off, keep it removed. (On a similar, yet different note, I was having a conversation with a very new friend on Sunday. At his urging, not because I wanted to talk about it, I spoke in very generic terms of the break-up. He and his partner of seventeen years had split up about five years ago, mutual decision. One of his main points what that it wasn’t personal. It was just not meant to be. I laughed so derisively that it prompted him to flinch and say that I was jaded and jagged enough to cut someone if they got to close (duh). Right, not personal, not personal at all. If that’s not personal, then nothing is. And I’m so fucking sick of ‘not meant to be.’ Especially in my relationship with HWMNBN, but also across the board. People make their decisions, we have free will—to make beauty and to destroy. Not meant to be is the excuse of the weak, of those who don’t want to take ownership or responsibility. It’s personal. Whether it’s rejection of love or of my writing—It’s personal.)
Black Coffee Tables
1 year ago