It was morning. It was evening. It was the first day or maybe it was the 982,988th…I can’t really remember.
Headphones on, closed eyes facing the sky a familiar song sends me off into the great unknown.
This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the
themes thou lovest best,
Night, sleep, death and the stars.
A Clear Midnight- Walt Whitman
That Train’s A Whistling
Tuesday’s Gone and that train’s a whistling at me.
Rolling down highways I know as intimately as person I have allowed in or been allowed to see…fully.
I say red dress, blue dress, it doesn’t fucking matter because I like them both. Doesn’t matter whether it is now, next week/year or never I can always see because memory is forever.
Or so we always say knowing that memory is an individual experience and even that which was shared can be viewed differently.
I am supposed to be home but this isn’t it anymore, even though it is as familiar as ever.
Roads, faces and places don’t change the feeling of Can’t Find My Way Home so I figure it is the perfect storm of events that brought me here in a hurry.
That is the most logical explanation for the incongruence of being somewhere that I lived for the majority for my life yet not feeling quite settled.
Mom and dad have moved again and though the furniture is familiar the place doesn’t feel quite right to me, might in time, but it is not there yet.
Doesn’t really matter because it doesn’t have to be familiar to me. I don’t live here.
Nonetheless I am here now at the end of some things and beginning of others trying to find a quiet space.
For a moment it feels like I have located the eye of the storm, but only for a moment because as soon as the calm arrives it is driven away by a ruckus.
A ruckus best described as the loving sounds a couple who have been married for more than 50 years make as they move through a new house determining where things should go while debating about what should never have been taken along or given away.
You’ll Miss Me When I Am Gone
I’m parked in a lot where I was told by another to take a hike because timing was wrong and circumstances weren’t quite right.
“You’ll miss me when I am gone and if you keep this up, one day I really will be.”
I can’t ever remember if it was before or after she told me we were inextricably linked but I know the ride was always worth it and hear the echoes of the past and the future.
The constant proof that planning was never as simple or as effective as we would like. Those experiences proved to me the best we can do is learn to roll with what comes and try not to be surprised when lightning strikes or if it doesn’t.
That is really what brought me back to LA long before I expected to visit…a lightning strike.
The news came and I had to follow because it is what you do.
Had to come take care of some things and try to make plans knowing that people plan and G-d laughs.
Knowing that whenever G-d has chosen to laugh at my plans it has been the fall down on the floor and roll with great guffaws kind of laughter.
But you can’t not try to prepare for certain situations because you think plans will change so you do the best you can and get ready for the possibilities.