november 1 2023
I do my best writing when I’m flying and I fly all the time now.
I’m on a plane, on my way to Manchester. I’ve crossed this ocean countless times now but I still have never truly been “back”, if you get what I mean. I’m always going somewhere new, somewhere far, somewhere that could be home. I don’t know. I’m so flighty. I don’t have a home. I don’t want one, either. At least nothing physical - there is no place I will miss as much as other people. I miss people all the time.
The woman sitting at the end of my aisle is insane. I chose the window seat, as always, so I can look down at the fading buildings and be dramatic and perform melancholia. This woman is blaring a video from her Instagram Reels on full volume, no headphones. I like to think that I am a generally happy person but it is often delicious to be sad. I’m so dual-ended as a person. I tell the woman politely to put in headphones. She looks at me like I’ve slapped her and quickly shuts off her device and tucks it away. I think everyone has lost their fucking minds.
Ever since the pandemic, I felt like something happened to my brain, to my mind, my heart, my intestinal flora, my DNA structures. I was re-wired in 2018 and then again in 2020 and now again, I feel that familiar pull on a thread connected to Who Do I Think I Am? And just who do I think I am? I know but I don’t know yet. I don’t want to tell anyone anything. I want to keep me all to myself and sit in my hotel room and look out the window until it’s time for the next show.
Four years ago I decided that all the men in my life had to be useful. Ben, my tour manager, is sitting two rows behind me. I want to tap him on the shoulder and talk his ear off for the rest of this six hour flight. He is a good sport so I know he would let me give him another astrology reading. But instead of bothering him, I catch up on my emails and send messages to my friends. Love you. Miss you. What’s going on? Yes, I’m so excited! I love Berlin. Not as much as I used to. I hate London. It’s the weather. Sorry I missed your call! I miss you! Do you miss me?
I send my boyfriend, Kevan, a giant block of text/stream of thought. Then another. And another. And still another. I send him a funny picture of us from Halloween. He hearts all my messages and calls me a silly duck. I kiss my phone.
There is a baby screaming her lungs out at the front of the plane. Girl, I hear ya. This world is so fucked. Be informed, if you must, but eventually you have to turn off the news and fix your own life if you want to do anything about it. Birth is a miracle. Existence? A blessing. We are flying over the Atlantic Ocean and I’m looking out the window and all I see is so much pain. Double fucked.