Week 19
This week I wrote a poem at Brooklyn Poets, went to Brighton Beach for the first time this summer season to lay down and read, sat in Wash Sq Park with A to chat for hours, rested my head on my friends’ shoulders as we listened to RF Kuang and Roxane Gay at PEN World Voices, sat in the sun under wisteria shade of the brownstone backyard, ate the home-cooked offers meals of my loved ones, met some new people, and talked. A lot. On Facetime and on couches and over delicious food. Perhaps it is because of all this talking that I am indeed very tired, and yet I recognize the necessity to talk, because why else describe how we’re feeling, why else connect?
While I enjoy scrolling backwards and rereading each week, I am running into a wall with this project. I don’t think it’s because of all the talking this week. I looked forward to each Sunday as time spent in my head recapping why existence is so wonderful, but this Sunday I merely felt mired in dread. I think there are a multitude of reasons for this unease, and I need more time to analyze. I do hope to charge ahead though, and continue writing this newsletter, because Week 1 already feels so far away and lost in my head, and it’s nice to read the digital archive in a way that I know I would not be able to replicate if it were a private diary.
Onwards to next (this) week!