the need for this experiment has ended

prelude

i wrote a poem on 29 November 2008 about taking a walk downtown; i called it "Wonderful prelude..." and later that afternoon i received a letter from a beautiful Russian telling me she didn't want to be with me any more. i had just written her a note and left it on the pillow where we had planned to rest our heads that night. her letter said that she still wanted to see me and i agreed.

before leaving to see her that night, i took a vow of celibacy until the dusk of the new moon of February 2009. (today). and thus the experiment began.


day 1

that night was one of the most amazing nights of my life, and i do not know if i have ever seen the magic so clearly as when we sat by the waterfront and a tour boat floated us in the canal. two hundred drunken tourists yelled in unison: "kiss her!"

but i did not kiss her and the moment passed us by.


month 1

the first month was the hardest, uncomfortable, restless, not even sure of what i was doing. i told:

Mardou, who once had a lover who did the same before meeting her.
my classmate, with whom i had a late summer parking lot flirtation.
my sister, who has rarely gone more than a week since i met her.
Jache, who does the same when his girlfriend is on her period.
my teacher, who had been telling me to do this since summer.
and (the one who is never mentioned but always there).

i told the beautiful Russian in her living room before we went to Art Basel. that night we walked in a room full of art, not touching any of it, and the moment passed us by.


the tipping point

i received a letter from Mardou on 22 December 2008 wishing me a happy birthday. my birthday was still more than a month away, but the gift was perfectly timed. it was a picture of her in front of a wall full of words in Jamaica.

that night i talked to the beautiful Russian and told her i was sick of not talking to her. i told her all the things i had been unable to tell Mardou the year before, swimming in the ocean at night, when i let the moment pass us by.


month two

the second month was the easiest, maintaining my vow in letter if not intent. i started teaching and had a full class load. i stayed busy. i turned 32 and was fed art, pizza and cauliflower in celebration. somehow i ended up with three birthday cards in my windowsill, not understanding how they got there or what they meant.

i didn't want any more moments to pass me by.


month three

the last month was the hardest. i felt strained and stretched. my teacher asked me if i had checked out on him, i didn't sleep well, i didn't eat well, i didn't write well. i felt trapped and panicked and full of doubt. i subjected myself to wild tales, the Fear, and mid-afternoon malaise.

i dreamt of La Cienega; i dreamt of Mardou; i dreamt of all the ones i had loved and the moments that passed me by.


the end

the end actually came a week earlier than i thought it would, and it wasn't what i had expected. i sat crying in a chair with my eyes closed in a house that wasn't mine, touching a place i had been only once, more than two years before.

the next day saw its own revelations and Saturday there was another one of those moments, when it all might have turned around and gone the other way, led me down a different path, a different life, a different fate, but i let it pass me by.

one cannot help but do his dharma.

there is no need to mourn the moments that pass us by;
nothing is resolved, nothing ever is.

we love,
we live,
we lose,
we die.

every heart is whole unto itself,
every moment is a requiem,
every art is a lie,
let us rejoice.