Sinister: thoughts of intent in LA

[John Wojcik]

As I write from my hotel room in LA, my thoughts turn
to my sweet busstopper Sara, and what has become of
her. Every time I come to LA, I manage to see her.
Sweet, pure, my valentine. Platonic love, trust,
simple and complete. I call, her cell phone number
rings and another person answers. She must of
cancelled it. It is sad that I don't know how to get
in touch with her, and I wont get to see her when I'm
on the west coast this time.

DJing is not going well. Last time at the venue, the
band didn't show, and their crowd of friends and bar
customers. While it is not important to me personally
for them to spend, it is of course important for the
owner to make a few bucks so that she can keep the
space open, and provide me with a place to spin. I do
it for the love of the music, and honestly not much
else. Its not easy to choose and to haul two crates of
music and assorted gear from Jersey to Williamsburg.
And its completely disheartining to spin to only the
bartender and the uninterested people that run
frequently to the bathroom, in pairs, for my
self-deceptingly mysterious, but plainly obvious
reasons.

I have a girl I am in like with. I can't tell her all
of what will follow, but I love the fact that she is
too busy to see me becuase she needs to create the
architecturial drawings for a beach house in
California. When I meet a girl, I look into the future
and see what it holds. If I cant see past the third
conversation or unrequited sushi, I often politely
demure, and decide this person is better as a friend.
The architect girl I see - 5 years from now - her and
I interviewed by the NY times about the house she
designed in upstate New York, built on 20 acres. The
picture in the article would have me standing behind
her, with my hand on her shoulder, both following and
helping. The house, of course, would eventually be
well known and its aspects would be taught as the
quintessential example of her style and design. 

Architecturial students, years from now, would make a
pilgrimage to see. She would welcome them and chat
freely. I would bring to the porch sun steeped,
sweetened, lemon ice tea, and perhaps something to
eat, depending on how far they travelled and their
general niceness. Even if introverted and aloof, I
would welcome them as I cannot turn down a
conversation about design, furniture or any subject
that makes my architect wife feel accomplished and
happy.

While I have only a raincheck to meet her for sushi
when I get back, and have not actually broken bread or
shared a spicy tuna roll, it is much too early to tell
her any of this. But I am sure, at the right time, all
of my hopes for us will be something sweet to say and
will be said. Something so detailed and well thought
out is, of course, sincere and true. Being as
perceptive and insightful as she is, she will come to
the same conclusion. On the face of it, it is all just
a nice thing to say.  But her realizing what went into
the creation of an attainable and very possible
futute, is what I hope to accomplish. Words are
important but inaccurate. Intent is real.

I read this, and I think that I dont really know this
person, and she does not know me. Things may not work
out the way I hope that they will, and conclude with a
happy future. This last statement is meaningless.
Things never work out perfectly tailored to the
perfect future. I preach to my friends that life is
about risk. I need to start living that myself.

John


John Wojcik
johnnythreeb at yahoo.com
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"I think it only makes sense to seek out and identify structures of authority, hierarchy, and domination in every aspect of life, and to challenge them; unless a justification for them can be given, they are illegitimate, and should be dismantled, to increase the
scope of human freedom."

--Noam Chmosky


		
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