Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world...

"It was one of those days when it's a minute away from snowing. And there's this electricity in the air, you can almost hear it, right? And this bag was just...dancing...with me. Like a little kid begging me to play with it. For fifteen minutes. That's the day I realized that there was this entire life behind things. And this incredibly benevolent force that wanted me to know there was no reason to be afraid...ever. Video's a poor excuse, I know. But it helps me remember...I need to remember. Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it...and my heart is just going to cave in." -American Beauty

I didn't realize this morning that one of my favorite scenes ever, in one of the most moving films ever would replicate itself throughout my day. Perhaps it caught me off guard because it's always one of those days for me, but today seemed like it was trying to be more...benevolent. It's been near snowing in my apartment for weeks and the electricity in the air has fingered my skin and left me a little windblown.

I've had an idea simmering under my skin for a new play for a couple of months now and this morning I stared at my monitor trying to telepathically maneuver the beginnings of it from my soul to the screen. I haven't written in awhile and as much as acting is my breath, my medium of choice, I've needed to write of late like I've needed to breathe. I had a writer's perfect storm this morning—a craving, hope, intangible desire, a figurative acnestis, The Lightning Strike playing for the 1,000th time on my playlist, and my window overlooking a tree disrobed by winter wind on Q Street. Nature and nakedness. I love naked. I love nature. And nothing happened. Nothing happened for hours. So like any writer blocked, I decided to go shopping instead. And by shopping I mean procrastinate. Whoever said that inspiration can't be found in procrastination has never perfected the art of waiting. And if I know anything, I know how to wait. And wait. And watch. See.

I bundled up in my thick, envy-green sweater and headed outside. As I was scooping dried leaves from near the wiper blades on my car, one of the leaves cut me between my fingers. I've never been leaf-cut before and for a moment I just stared at the wound. "Lean upon a rush, the cicatrice and capable impressure thy palm some moment keeps." I raised my inky brows and reflexively brushed my hand near my sweater in the back and drew my hand back to my mouth and licked between my fingers. As tongue met stung, I saw it. This plastic bag blowing around in front of me over concrete and leaves. And it danced. It fucking danced. I found myself just watching it cinematically float through negative space. Sometimes it just happens like that. Out of nowhere this elemental grandeur of sadness and beauty crashes into you, floats by you, and taunts you, "I won't let you catch me...because I want you to." I don't know when I found myself moving toward it, just hoping this beautiful thing would touch me, if only for a moment. And just as I was about to impede its path, touch it, I pulled away. It needed to come to me. It was leading, it started the dance. And if anything...I couldn't help but just stand there and watch it, licking my swoon wound, believing in the life behind things. The things we don't always want to see. And it reminded me of someone.

Sometimes transitions are choppily edited in life. So not long after my repose in the gutter of leaves, I found myself making the ever so difficult decision of which cough drops to buy. I knew I wanted sugar-free, but where were the cherry ones? I was congested but still in an almost ethereal, spiritual mood from my personal American Beauty moment. My mind drifted through collages. Lipstick on a white coffee cup near sugar spilled on a coffee counter. The feel of a wall against my palm seconds before I go on stage. A garden. The way light weaves through the sari fabric covering my bedroom window and the fuchsia glow it emits for only a few moments each day—usually when I'm not home. A kiss. Punctuation—elusive ellipses and fuerte em dashes. That moment with him. In that little bathroom without a door, watching him take a bath after sex—he cupped the water like he held my breasts, let the water fall. The water travelled over his stomach as we discussed what shouldn't happen next. Water will never look or sound as beautiful or serious. How could it? And my heart caves in a little now as much as it did then. Sometimes it's the couldn'ts and can'ts and shouldn'ts we steal moments from that are worth it all. When we're really honest with ourselves. When we let ourselves be naked for another, if only behind doors. If only for a moment. And then——

HIM: Um, wow, wait—

(I turn to find a man staring at me.)

ME: Excuse me?

HIM: You have a leaf?

ME: I have a what?

(I'm clutching bags of fruity menthol orbs as he reaches and nimbly places his hand on my ass, lingers for what seems like an ass-feeling eternity, and pulls his hand away holding a dry leaf.)

HIM: See? You have a leaf. Look at those edges. They're kind of sharp like they could poke you or cut you.

(He runs his finger along the edge of the leaf not taking his eyes off of me.)

ME (internally): Really? This is all I ever get universe? A serial killer copping a feel and pulling dry leaves off of my ass near cough drops and an end-cap of Dixie cups? This is the best you got?

ME (externally): Oh, um, thank you. You're like a leaf hero...or something.

HIM: You mean leaf blower?

(Said with raised brow and smarmy o-shaped lip grin used for imitating blow-up dolls.)

Beauty here? He creeped me out, I was molested while congested, and the best I could come up with was "leaf hero" when confronted with a less-than-desirable pervert.

My day: I was writer blocked. Cut by a leaf. A bag danced with me like it just walked out of a movie à la Jeff Daniels and teased me like a new lover. I experienced film déjà vu. I was groped in a grocery store. Later that night I pressed a button to flush a theatrical toilet twelve times and I tried to kill ants with hairspray thereby almost suffocating the actors. There was cake. Frosting. Champagne in plastic. And then I dreamt about water. And pears. And I write this because...


"I need to remember. Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it...and my heart is just going to cave in." -American Beauty