Elsewhere, 6 Years Later
Watching a Bastiat movie at Elsewhere with G & S: “How long does it take to become famous” asks the actor playing Bastiat. The actor playing his friend, who may or may not be Benicio Del Toro says “four years.”
It is now 6 years later. They have won the Warhol Grant. A hundred artists have moved in or out. G is becoming a doctor. The great love affair between G + S has unraveled — details unknown.
A new person has come to the space, and moves precipitously, changing not only the content of the building, but the building itself. The bathroom wallpapered with the King James Bible is gone.
Dust. Barely there. Chicken pecking at laptop keyboards. Free internet at coffee shops. Sleeping in the back. Upstairs with ghosts. A chaste menage in an apartment off Tate. S’s sister. Me a virgin. Time twists.
Six years later. About to be a doctor myself. The Corpus Juris bounces in my brain. Have to go learn torts again. Everything I need to know I learned in kindergarten.
Great Berlin. It’s all happening. J getting married. Twisty. How long to get famous. Four years. Ten thousand hours. Expert at life.
Ten thousand words about democracy.
Five thousand words about the law.
Moses at Sinai. The Big Bang Theory of Law versus the Theory of Continuous Inflation. Enjoy learning it, don’t love to be taught. Spread wide and thin like butter on toast. Nothing wrong with that.
Sat in DC and watched as a hurricane moved inexorably towards New Orlean. I wondered what would happen. I wondered
Hated Bush after that. Met a girl with dark hair who read the Economist who hated Bush too. Ari Fleischer even more. “Go ask 1984.” She was writing her thesis then. I write my thesis now. About the need to care for each other in a democracy. About the insufficiency of narrow-interest politics. “Our turn to eat.”
A different President. My president, maybe, finally. He was once a law student like me. I will not be President. I would not want it. Takes a specific kind of man to want the weight of the world on their shoulders — Atlases. It is no wonder monarchies fell — most men, royal or common, are unequal to the task of ruling in this strange and modern world — imperative that we find someone who can do it.
Is he humbled by the immenseness of the task?
Kerry back then. Unexciting. Not up to snuff. Real talent waiting in the wings? Obama spoke then, but I had missed it. I listened to his speech about eighteen months later — and felt myself be moved. Cynicism now had a purpose — the hope for a different world.
Elsewhere. Six years ago. Hope for another world.