The faces of Patience

I had a thought I ran with last night and never finished, but when I tried to reassume today, I couldn’t conjure the same state of mind, so I wrote in a new mood and included both. The musically induced experiment continues…

1) Why can’t patience be more patient? She’s always telling me what to do and I wish she would just relax and get off my case. I tried to be with her, but the relationship crumbled, we really have nothing in common. She just wants to sit around all day and wait for things to happen instead of MAKING them happen, doesn’t she know this is New York? Maybe one day we can be together, I never say never, but for now we’ve gone in different directions.

Other external factors to consider…

Time: 8:47PM

Distraction: $100 fine I still haven’t paid for letting a stranger in the Metro turnstile with me. Also, left sheets in the communal washing machine, damn.

Drinking: Magic Hat #9 foaming accidentally onto the carpet until I plug the bottle with my mouth. Alone. In a room. Don’t visualize that for my sake.

Project: Painting intricacies onto a window pane I can only access by bending over or stretching my legs into a split on the floor #discomfort #worth it

2) Patience was always the most desirable girl in school. Everyone wanted her, but no one could have her, and the harder the girls tried to be to look like her, the further they became from who they were, especially at that age. See, Patience was a natural beauty, what she had was a genetic predisposition putting her in a position that kept others repositioning in her presence. The lovely thing was that she was there for anyone who needed her, and when friends called her in times of distress, she would say “follow my lead.” Parents would always say “you should act more like Patience,” and they were right. Good things always came her way, and she never wasted her time with the class troublemaker, Worry.

Other external factors to consider…

Time: 9:53AM

Sound: Muffled female vocals from the headphones hovering too closely above me

Environment: between the Build A Bear purse sitting across from me and the heels wobbling on the girl trying to stand without holding the rail, seems very New York subway

Action: licking spilt coffee off the web between my left index finger and thumb, getting better at taking text notes with one hand

Observation: everyone is on their phones, but there’s no reception underground. I’m probably doing the coolest thing (subjective reassurance)

Feeling: yellow bumps on the metro platform through my boots, makeshift city foot massage

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