Andrew J. Lederer

maybe it's because i'm out wandering around in a breezy, mostly sunny day. the trees are turning a deeper shade of green as their new leaves spread into full, lush, summer canopies.

but it took me a whole day to prepare to be out in the day.

after two days of lying around, sleeping a lot, and basting in my own natural juices, i spent yesterday doing laundry, putting clean sheets on my bed, eating and drinking as required and, finally, showering, so that when i woke up today, i'd be more or less prepared to face the world.

it's always been like this. i frequently have spent three days indoors, not leaving the house at all (maybe a walk to the supermarket to get tomato paste if absolutely necessary). then exited the cave to go exploring and reacquaint myself with the glories of the world outside.

i always tell myself i'm gonna do more of it -- that with the world this wonderful, i'll surely be motivated now to spend my time out in it, not hiding like a brown bear in winter. but the protective solitude of inside proves darkly seductive almost immediately. it's like when i go out early in the morning and am so moved by the perfect newness of the light and the abundance of day to work within that i determine i will meet this morning again and soon. the only thing that happens soon is that i go back to leaving the house at 5 in the afternoon.

i'm sitting out in front of the tea lounge in park slope now. a little while ago a girl who really knows how to do minimally-colored tattoos and multi-tone hair walked confidently by.

what would it be like to know her? what would it be like to know anybody?

when my living situation was unsettled, i was too much in the world in the wrong way. now i am too much in my own world.

when i go outside, i take my protective cave with me.

when i am in, i recognize how unprotected i am from the slights of the world and am reluctant to venture forth into the warmn and sunny, cold, cold world.

in recent times, ive finally been made aware of the fact that i'm not any different from hordes of other people in having these feelings. but even that feels like a gyp as i spent so many years feeling different that -- in a way -- it was the one thing i had that was mine -- the individuality of my experience. (i'm different.)

now, it turns out i'm just like other people? my unique place int he world is not unique at all?

what good is that?. what good is unknowingly "shared" aloneness?

ok. i can embrace normal.

i bought a vanilla cupcake today 'cause that seemed normal.

and i sat with the nice-looking saturday people in front of an attractive coffee, sandwich and baked goods place in fort green and ate the cupcake as breezes carre4sed my face and plant-type reproductive shit blew into my face and over my things.

and you know what?

the cupcake wasn't good. and neither was the coffee. i go out of my way to be normal and i can't even enjoy it.

oh, well.

i went to the movies the other day 'cause that seemed normal.

saw spiderman.

it was good.