There’s a bar near my apartment in Los Angeles called “The Woods.” It’s dark, the people are damp and it draws you in with a mysterious thirst for adventure- but mostly a thirst to get lost. I’ve been there two times and both times I’d say I was successfully lost in boozey loud laughter and unappealing sexual glances. It’s probably one of my favorite bars in the city, though the martinis could be better.
Today is the 4th of July, one of my favorite holidays. Though, I’ve celebrated the 4th less than any other holiday. The weird thing about the US’s Independence Day, opposed to several other countries, is that no one else celebrates or chooses to acknowledge it in any festive way. Cinco de Mayo we all get drunk! Whatever St. Paddy’s day is we open the bars at freaking 6 am and little people are kings for a whole day. I was in South America for two 4ths in a row and the most celebration we got was drinking homemade fermented fruit juice and hearing a few distant gun shots. This 4th I’m visiting my boyfriend in Pennsylvania who happens to be working the PM shift in the ER. So, I’m drinking a glass of tawny and watching the Woods from his back patio.
I don’t know what it is about watching Woods, it’s not like watching a movie- I mean nothing actually happens. But there’s intrigue lying beneath those trees. Something is happening. Squirrely animals are feasting and nesting, bugs are fighting and mating, coyotes are readying for a night’s hunt. (I don’t actually know if there are coyotes in Pennsylvania, but I’ll run with it.) Maybe someone’s lost. Maybe someone’s burying a body. Or maybe there’s an eclipse of happenings in these woods and everything is still aside from the ruffle of the trees and one girl watching and writing about this particular forest. And that’s something.
But this evening I have something to ask these woods, I’m feeling ‘here’ again. Here, in my head which is discovered, found, unraveled before another fellow. Another someone to love, I could, probably do love. And I want to hide. Run into the woods, maybe leave a note, maybe not? Disappear and get lost with myself. Running first at fast out of fear then slower and slower until I find a tree stump or rock or anything that calls my name and invites me to sit and laugh and feel free. Free of disappointment, disapproval or just discovery. Free to feel me and safe with just me. Which is the struggle between being a Woods-person or.. a People-person. And most who believe they’ve discovered ‘me’ would say “That’s the alcohol talking. That’s why you can’t drink, can’t stay inside! You gotta get out! Socialize, get a job, be somebody.” In the Woods, you don’t gotta be nobody. You can speak with double negatives, speak to the trees, listen to the trees. You can be dark, you can be damp. But for how long before you become a fossil?
a poorly written essay on operant conditioning 