Man. Back at the old job for the first time in 10 days. I get a wave of depression after every residency and this one is no different. The only thing different this time is that I was, as you might have heard, depressed as the residency neared its end. So here I am, surrounded by middle-aged men who are grasping at anything -- worn-out office chairs, out of date computer monitors, yellowed stacks of newspapers -- as the building around us crumbles. That is if they aren't laid off tomorrow. I'm working on a product at this moment that will sell more than a hundred thousand copies but you get the sense that the number is closer to zero. We're quibbling over word choice and font size for a bankrupt industry and a yawning audience. These guys I work with, nice guys, asked me "How was your time off" and I said "It was nice" without follow up or elaboration. It meant nothing to them and nothing to me. They do not know I write, or teach, or study. I am a guy who goes home and watches TV, sleeps, eats, and comes to work. Nothing more. Which is fine. I am what I am while sitting in this chair.
My melancholy in Danbury mourned the loss of a place and time where I was somebody. We all were. I got to spend the last six days with people who knew my dream and I theirs. I was given the chance to confess and think and ponder and conclude. I was inspired, forgiven and found out. I asked questions and was met with opposition or answers or both. The best part: I came home with an injured throat from laughing too much. Seriously. It hurts to swallow.
Before I left the Maron yesterday I ran into our new friend John Wekerle. I said "It was nice meeting you and talking with you," and he shook his head and gave me a quizzical look, almost annoyed. "Vici," he said. We conquered. He kicked his feet together and stood up straight and gave a quick salute, then walked away.
I wish I could be that eloquent. But I can't. Not yet anyway. Some day.
9 comments:
Dave - I am reading this from my cubicle, just a block away from the headquarters of your crumbling employer. You are breaking my heart AND making me smile. So you must be doing something right. A
Dave,
I am reading this from my home station where I slog away at my novel for my last semester. I missed this past residency, and reading your post makes me sorry I did. It IS invigorating to be surrounded by words and other writers for a week. Fortunately, there is cyberspace to keep us connected. Your blog made me smile, too.
Kathy Belby
Dave,
Nice, man. Great to read that. You might have noticed me, all graduated, no special purpose, hanging around, like, a lot. Why? It's an inspiring tribe, good fun, just the right vibe. Hope I see you soon!
Don
Who says you're not eloquent, Dave. We're all working toward greatness, but while we're at it, you've showed us how to enjoy the ride.
Keep plugging.
and I'm writing from a truck stop in Virginia, 36 minutes off of my life from second hand smoke inhalation. I would sacrifice Southern greenery and heat if it meant getting to be at a permanent residency with you guys. Missing your humor Dave Holub :-( I think you're very eloquent.
Going back to the day job is not easy for me either. I go back not only because I have bills to pay, but because I'm inspired to change the course of my life. Every time I attend a residency I'm reminded of that point. I don't always feel like I can do it and when doubt creeps in I'll look back to the encouraging notes I took from Elizabeth Cohen. First, we have to see what it is we want to become and then we have to keep working our butts off until the stars align for each of us.
Funny you mention stars aligning. Stars spontaneously align every once in a while for one or two people in the world. For the rest of us, we have to physically move the stars ourselves and make them align. That's why success is so hard. I mean, stars weigh, like, a billion pounds. And they're extremely hot to the touch.
Dave,
You are so very right about those stars being hot, hot like the sun. And the sun is a scorcher,I kid you not. For instance, if you put an egg into the middle of the sun it would cook hard in like 25 seconds! That's hot. We're lucky that the sun isn't closer or we'd be uncomfortable. But the sun is way out there. How far? Put it this way: if you could drive a car, at say, 50 MPH for, and this is just hypothetically of course, but if you could drive that car for 24 hours straight without stopping to pee or to buy one of those large red tasting slushies that are blue, it would take, at 50 MPH, let's see, more than three days to get to the sun. And people think Montana's a long drive across! Yikes. Trip to the sun? Word to the wise -- pack a BIG cooler.
Your fellow traveler,
Don
I couldn't agree more with all of the comments above. I have all but given up on explaining what I do in my graduate work, and what the residency entails - the blank looks I've been getting since I began this program in August have grated on my last nerve. Fortunately, everywhere you look, there's some reminder of what we're doing, and the people we've met through this experience. Par example, I'm laying in bed last night, almost knocked out by the Advil PM I ingested an hour earlier. As I lazily flip through the channels, I stop on the local television station, as visions of Don Lowe dance across the screen, strumming at his guitar. Is that you, Mr. Lowe, or just a hallucination of my sleep meds?
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