Wednesday, November 9, 2011

empty roads

I love walking the city streets at night when they are abandoned. The roads hint at some greater purpose. At night they are unused and look like black rivers, lazy and geometric. I find a peace in walking along the streets and knowing that—while I cannot directly observe it—there are a great many lives around me. Each has its own history. People who have friends and family, who remember endless summers, and have inside jokes, and say profound things to each other.

There is always a human tragedy. Two men speak in hushed whispers outside a cafe. I pass slowly and they stop talking; look at me. A man tries to sell tickets outside Key Arena. A metal band emanates from an open door. A woman with a mastiff walks her dog. And all of these things have a history; are the middle of their own indie films.

Amber started her theater company today. I was there for the first meeting. I met new people and tapped into a culture of peers who want to do something.

I want to hit the ground running everyday. Queen Anne Hill is nearly a 500 foot ascent/descent. If I walk up and down it twice in a day I have changed elevation by nearly 1000 feet. On a map that barely makes a dent. The longest ships in the world are just over 1000 feet. If I were to stand one up, it would be twice the height of Queen Anne Hill. But it is the second highest hill in Seattle. And I walk it everyday.

I feel proud of myself. I hit the ground running everyday. And I'm excited to be creative again. I'm excited to collaborate with artists my age. I'm excited to live my life the way that I want to. I want my little indie flick to have a happy ending and I want it to be awesome. But I feel like I've just started climbing another little hill with this troupe. No matter, art requires exercise and perseverance, just like anything physical.

An empty road in a city. It beckons me; calls to me, “drive. Let the street lights pass in easy and steady succession: one, two, three.”