I am in Italy (well, as of editing and posting this I am on an Amtrak train from Philly to New York but for the romance and the drama, I am in Italy). I have not been in one place for very long this year which is both exciting and challenging. I am having trouble being present. There is always a next stress, a flight, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that passes by unfulfilled, as is their nature. I have been preoccupied with my return to living in New York, the mass clothing purge I am itching for, how I might redecorate the apartment, how I might afford the apartment now that rent has increased and theater stipends have not…I would like to just be thinking about how beautiful this street is: the white walls and cracked stone walkways; about the coast and its jutting cliff-sides that draw you constantly up and down, the dizzy twist of streets under the July sun spinning a kind of euphoric vertigo.
Sometimes, summer is the worst season because you know you ought to be enjoying it. It’s similar to vacation pressure—it’s going to be over soon, do you love it? are you taking enough pictures? A staple of my short time in Italy has been finding inventive ways of covering the fresh tattoo that’s just above my left achilles. I got it four days before I left for the Amalfi coast with the specific instructions of “no sun, no water.”
I’ve wanted a tattoo since I was sixteen. Obviously my first idea was to get the Deathly Hallows symbol which would have ruined my life. I’ve had many other ideas—a book, a quote, a flower—last year I was sold on the idea of a honeysuckle flower. It is the bloom that reminds me most of home. Unfortunately, while a bunch of honeysuckle is beautiful, a lone flower is rendered as a sad, flaccid creature. I’ve had a sinking feeling for the past few months that I would never actually do the deed. I fall in the fun quadrant of risk-averse and impulsive, which means I have my credit card autofilled on Instagram, but I have never done a cool drug.
During the last weekend of our show, thunderstorms rolled through Colorado Springs canceling closing night as it had done opening a month prior. At 11am on a Sunday, a friend and I followed through on the plan, walking in to Westside Tattoos and half-hoping they didn’t have any availability. I settled on a single sprout with a long root; literally googling “plant sprout” and showing the tattooist who had it drawn and then permanently inked into my skin within twenty minutes.
I am happy to have something that could spark a fireside chat about psychology and academia and symbolism (I have so many thoughts about it), but mostly will be cooed over because it’s cute. It does not have to be more than it is: a fragile, growing thing. I have spoken to everyone I’ve ever met about my theory on having a vibe of the year. I do consider the year to be birthday to birthday, though my birthday is January first so an argument can be made for it being the calendar year. Regardless, the vibe of my 24th year is grounded. The circumstances of my life are wildly unstable, but my feet are firmly planted as everything swirls about overhead.
There is a famous scene in Canto V of Inferno where those that succumbed to the sin of lust are buffeted about by a whirlwind for all eternity. It’s (in)famous for its star-studded cast of characters, but also their torture is the first sharp use of contrapasso—punishment befitting the crime often with an ironic twist—in the commedia. As the sinners were tossed about by their passions in life, so they will be in death; occasionally whipped into each other but never long enough to be together, to hold each other, to slow down.
The hellish storm, never resting, seizes and drives the spirits before it; smiting and whirling them about, it torments them…As in the cold season their wings bear the starlings along in a broad, dense flock, so does that blast the wicked spirits. Hither, thither, downward, upward, it drives them; no hope ever comforts them, not to say of rest, but of less pain. (Inf. V. 31 - 45)
Taking this image wildly out of context—this is how I felt around this time last year. At the mercy of a mysterious wind; flung about, sometimes crashing into something just long enough to see an outline before it, or I, am ripped away. I couldn’t tell where I was or where I should go, and even if I knew those things, I had no real means of movement, no feet or wings, more a leaf than a bird. The vibe of last year was confused (though these are my personal yearly energies, I think confused is a ubiquitous checkpoint of the early twenties). This year, I don’t feel the winds have stopped, if anything they’ve picked up, but from my new position on the ground I get some amusement watching the debris and gems blow past in their little airborne eddies. I’m much more able to stand on my tippy toes and pluck the things I want out of the air when they go by; much more able to walk through the storm.
The hardest thing to do when you’re not present is to stop fixating and forgive yourself. My mom just texted me: you have to hold the things and people you want with an open hand, not a closed fist because a closed fist will suffocate it/them. She is wise.
This Title Card is one of my favorites. I've been away for awhile but hope to keep up with your travels more. As for the tattoo, I think it is "you" simple but eloquent. I will be in NY from the 18th thru the 24th. Maybe we could hook up, I'd love to see you. Just message me your info and I will give you a call.
Well I would have been more eloquent with my choice/order of words if I had known it was going to be on the interwebs! ;)