Farming
Don’t read this.
Another day at the farm. Today I separated some tomato sprouts. Then I watered the greenhouse. Then I did a shit ton of weeding.
I moved a wheelbarrow full, stacked almost higher than I could see.
Um the last week or so I’ve hosted two events and was responsible for the initiation of the 3rd. Swim happy hour. Farmhands. And the drinks as a building [that Becky took over]
I had a grand total of 0 attendants between the two. The neighbors actually were pretty great. Two neighbors plus Becky and plus Ben’s girlfriend Shelly. Megumi was fascinating and she made great food plus the trader joe’s soup dumplings. She had a fascinating story about coming to America and traveling and her movie.
But as for my peer group, zilch!
Thank god I like hanging out with myself.
Thank goodness that I’m an unequivocal badass and I like myself.
Thank me for good planning, giving everyone opportunities, and doing my best.
See, I’m really not mad at anyone. I expected Beercats being a flop and brought work. But JChen and I had a good catch over text! If I do another one, he might come. I’ll invite him to the Open Mic just to bring bodies.
And while I would have liked to bring a friend for Farmhands, I can imagine Summer Saturdays are busy especially since Alec’s wedding took a couple of my closest friends who woulda come.
Which is also to say, damn mate. Keep chugging. Keep moving. You’re a goddamn legend and just everyone wait.
I’m not mad, I’m really not. I’ll fail at a million billion things and I’m going to love each and every one, even when it’s embarrassing, even when it really hurts, even if the injury recovery takes months [fk that though. No injuries.]
I’m here to fail at things also. I’m here to fail exceptionally. So bad that everyone starts laughing at me and I’m deeply shamefully embarrassed and then I’ll swallow my pride and ego and laugh too.
I’m the scum of the earth, just another flawed, awkward, ignorant, lazy, apathetic, wasteful, dying, sinful, ugly, sad, hopeless, cynical, snobby, judge-y, shallow, terrified, and lonely human being. I’m headed to the same six feet under, where I will spend the rest of all eternity. Everything else either happened before I existed, or the in the short nanoseconds that will capture the entire movie of my life.
That’s why I work on the things. That’s why I write words and read books and volunteer and invite friends and go to raves and workout and compete and drink with neighbors and try doors and talk to myself and talk to people and speak on the stage and take the shot and asked that girl if she was single and made out with Gloria who tasted like bitter coca and sweet alcohol and there’s cigarettes on my breath as I kiss her hips and trace her legs and the cold metal of the slide, a happy Bastille day, hungover, napping, writing, stretching, breathing, watching the sunset, meditating, and finding the time and peace.
The farm was good. Nice to be a part of something. The community there is really great. I love doing the work, being in the dirt, doing farm stuff. I bought more hot sauce. I liked seeing my hands and feet after, plus the barrel of weeds and walking through the cleaned isle. I didn’t chat as much with the other volunteers, I think maybe because it wasn’t a volunteer day. Even still I saw many of them and exchanged pleasantries. They recognize me and that is kindness and acceptance that I was striving towards and am proud to have. That’s cuddlefishing mate, when you can fking dap high school kids from East New York.
I also got the swim in! Excellent commitment!