Time to go to the movie that we don’t know what it’s about. Just that it won nominations for awards. Let’s go! O La La Land, now that I’ve been will I ever return? Hope not…the TechniColor dream reminds me there’s nothing but my own dream. In a place like LA your dream is your only mooring. To the dream, then, to the dream!
I went to San Francisco on the Uber for $5. My daughter and I took the BART on a different day. Oh yes I remember now the Uber ride was for a doctor’s appointment where he essentially told me the only thing wrong with me is my other doctor. So I broke my leg. Shit happens, he said, after two years of tests and treatments my new doctor says “Dude, you’re young, stop taking tests, your bones are fine, drink as much coffee as you want, eat some gluten if you want to, get out of here.” And I got to have my wine with cheesy grits afterwards. Then was it days before or days after that I came to the city with my daughter and we bought her clothes? Both, I think. And me clothes. Life is good it seems?
So I’ve been to the City three times in less than two weeks. For me, that’s travel, which I love. So life is good? Why the question mark? I’ve heard from liberal sources these days you’re not even supposed to say life is good, because of Trump. Guess it depends on your perspective but don’t I have something more to do at mid-life than think about politics? What I got out of La La Land yesterday was the importance of the creative life, even in the face of adversity. For a person who thrives on creative output, making cold calls and worrying about a new fascist president, and about a neighbor who can’t reason…doesn’t seem to fit. I try to make work creative. Let’s try again: make it my own system, design that and implement that. OK, let’s try it again. And now I can stop worrying about my bones for a couple of years. Take that off the table.
And what goes back on the table is this: get up early and exercise, go do some focused work in brokerage, then get creative. Not so hard, as long as I stick with it. Notice the absence of question marks. And Trump. And my neighbor. So the point is to be positive, and to commit to that positive. I do have one question, as a matter of fact. I don’t know if this will seem silly but there are a lot of miscellaneous tasks such as taxes, property maintenance, and etcetera that I have to do, so where exactly does all that fit in? I feel I have three jobs: brokerage, creative and miscellany. Guess I’m not the only one in the world with such a challenge. So, I’ll take a break to do some miscellany.
Miscellany and Trump. They’re two parts of one mind-control package because without direction we’re lost in miscellany and Trump gives no direction. Simple perspective is, if I have no sincere leadership I’ll be lost in miscellany. I try to provide myself direction. Three photos here with this writing represent the output of my task to create beauty. That’s direction. I try to apply that to brokerage…and grind the gears. Why? What’s not beautiful about a system of contacting and following up with prospective clients? What’s not beautiful about engaging other agents to pursue these leads? Nothing. Nothing is not beautiful about it. And that is where miscellany comes in. Today I reviewed a list of things to complain about regarding the direction of the Trump presidency. Things to object to. And, I shudder to acknowledge this but it was all miscellany. No smoking gun today. He’s like a cockroach that has dug itself in under the leaves and the detritus so you can’t quite see him at the moment. I’m chasing leaves and stems and bits of dirt instead of the real animal.
I think the Press, those who stand accused, see this too. So they report on what they can see and leave the rest for further research, further revelations, further questions at a later conference. None of us can do it on our own, and it is justice, which requires a constant stepping back, a constant acknowledgement of imperfect knowledge, a constant allowance that events unfold, actions take place. So I go watch La La Land and am drawn into the terrible truth of creativity, which, as justice, only exists in the moment, never in past or future. And the moment is remorselessly incomplete. Or is it? Watching La La Land I realized I’d from then on operate wholly within the moment, I’d live in the moment and deny myself the recrimination and abstinence of past and future. That would be my struggle, like it or not.