In the 1996 movie "Basquiat" about the artist Jean-Michel Basquiat the view Jean-Michel was actually happiest before he was popular was conveyed through the rather unsubtle visual device of a surfer. While he is struggling we literally are shown a surfer riding high on a wave....and when he's popular but an emotional wreck we see a surfer at the bottom of the wave about to wipe out.
This is a similar theme for this week. In a terrific work week I couldn't help but find myself consumed in more worry than I could imagine.
Which brings me to dinner. There's nothing quite like having dinner with people you don't know. But to be fair, strangers are okay. But even better, there's nothing quite like having dinner with people you don't know AND they all seem to know you. I walked into dinner tonight and my dinner with 4 strangers (and 1 person I knew) turned into a lovely reunion of people who knew me, where I lived, and things we've all spoken about. The only problem is that I had no fucking idea who these people were.
Even weirder was the fact that everyone else seemed to be more interested in my life than I was. I have dinner for the purpose of not re-living the day I just lived through. These people apparently had been living in a dark cave of hope, awaiting the next time for us to meet, however long ago it was that we all met....if that ever had even happened.
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