Monday, April 17, 2017

Sunday, April 16, 2017

Lur-ed

Recovery occurs when the burdens are lifted.  Or does one rise above the burden.  Are troubles lifted or does one find the orbital energy needed to escape from and break the bonds.

Some people are set and determined to be martyrs or victims.  Don't let them injure you when you sit alongside quietly.  Comes a time when it's best to leave them to gnaw at themselves.  Of course, they would be most receptive to you, when you take special notice of them.  Do they see the trail of others you tended to and moved away from once they asked more from you?

Despite the malleable state of emotions, they always come into their own.  It's a wonder to watch, especially as they share their blossoming with you.  Once they open, though, the mystery becomes mundane and ordinary.  Time to move on.

Saturday, April 15, 2017

Undercurrent

He considered leaving everything he had to start anew.  The vision was so rosy and clear at the time.

A few years later, a major commitment fell away and he cast his cards in the air and a few fluttered to opportunities on another continent.  He pursued them while he notified the domestics that he was prepared to move away.

And now another rare opportunity has arisen.  This one to pursue an area of interest, not of his vocation or formal training.

He never asked for any of these - they offered themselves - he was emphatic about this.  Will anything move him from where he became comfortable?  Not likely.  He found that he could depart and return without ever leaving his chair.

Monday, April 10, 2017

Space

Silence between one sound and another.
A soak between events.
The room experienced.
A charming gap.
Growth of a garden from winter's barren chill to lush warmth of a false spring.
Leaps from the known to free-fall plunges.
A breath taken between obligations.
The hole punched in the night sky.

Saturday, April 1, 2017

Fools' Day

A few of us were rehearsed through the program, and when the leader departed for another place I ran through the routine with the dance and sung phrases and got stuck in so many places.  I had not mastered the material. The leader came back with a knowing look in her eyes and ran each of us through the routine, individually.  I was in the middle of the lineup and performed worse than I expected.

My former partner came close to me and told me to hug her before she departed.  I stood behind her and wrapped my right arm around her body while my left arm was entangled in a cord.  She weightlessly stayed with me, and when I needed to use my right arm I kept it around her, refusing to let her go, while I received surprised looks from the group.

“Can I call you at this number?” she asked, and she showed me the 5xx-5xx-xxx9 number, I looked at the black rotary phone near the table and saw it had the same number so I agreed, then I released her and she dissolved, smiling as she disappeared.


The older one came in and said she had to tell me something.  We stood, forehead to forehead and she intuited, without words, that she was ejected from the place.  I was shocked.  “Who forbade you to enter?” She uttered a highly unlikely name, or I could have mis-heard it.  She blustered with her egoistic flair as she began to depart, and I was shocked and sad to see her go.  Regardless of her behavior, I felt that her departure signaled the demise of the place.  I hung my head as I joined another iteration of the routine, and although my mind was elsewhere, I performed without a hitch.

As the group left the room I picked up dirty clothes left behind by the two who departed.  I bid them good riddance as I resented picking up after them again.  This would be the last bittersweet favor for them.

Can you please stop the noise, I am trying to sleep.  I am exhausted. 

Sunday, March 19, 2017

Catharsis

Loves company when he himself invites them, but not when others bring them over.  Very conditional that way.  His way, at his convenience, preferably via remote access and on a whim, so that he is always in demand.  Too tiresome to actually interact with them, blemishes and all, on a regular basis.  He has his well-tended nest to settle into, and the world remains outside until invited in under his very peculiar terms.

Cranky AF.  The current climate erodes the thick skin needed to move forward.  Each slight becomes an abrasion and the collection of them becomes too numerous to tend to, so he succumbs and gives up on the weekends.

This weekend, though, a few pre-organized commitments took him outside.  Eyes were checked and dilated on the sunniest afternoon of the week.  It was so dismaying when the letters on the eye chart could not be read through the left eye.  So no response was given.  "I feel like I'm going to fail this test," he explained to the doctor.  The doctor smiled and said, "Actually, there is no grade.  There is no right or wrong answer, so do your best.  Everyone gets the same grade."  The mood lightened, and after a good laugh, wild-ass guesses based on knowledge of the shapes of letters and numbers flew out as responses.  After the appointment he stumbled through the nearby market to pick up a few items because there was nothing at home in the kitchen.  After unpacking the grocery bag at home he laid down.  His brain was exhausted trying to compensate for his ever-failing eyes.

He awoke from a short nap, in a depressed mood.  He was so hungry and dinner still needed to be prepared.  He also had an appointment to meet a young composer.  Why did he even say he would go to meet him?  Oh yes, to encounter a new experience.  A few general questions based on no knowledge of the composer were assembled as he prepared comfort food: chicken stew and rice.

At the coffee shop, the composer, who looked startlingly young (everyone looks young to you now, you with the feeble eyes), an even older patron who seemed to know too much about music, and a young woman were seated at an outdoor table.  The conversation was led by the older patron who favored tonality and probed the composer's statement of his piece that veered away from that mode.  The feeble-eyed one asked two questions during the session, each one met by the older patron with "that's a good question!"  Hold your values to yourself, old man, the blind one said silently to the patron.  The composer mentioned balancing the high and low sound ranges of the orchestra.  During the rest of the conversation the composer was nearly apologetic - "There will be some periods of silence during the piece.  Some people might like this, some people might hate it."

Later the composer briefly addressed the audience and advised them to "listen with your gut."  The piece opened with two fists banging on a base drum as though it was a barrier or door.  Sound textures with deep throbbing undercurrents followed.  Where were the silences the composer spoke of?  There they were, brief and just enough to let the blind one absorb what just passed before the next onslaught to the barrier arrived.  Listen with your gut, indeed, because this was a visceral experience.

Young one, embrace your statement.  There will always be critics, and it is possible that I will be one in the future, too.  But tonight you helped this blind one see a warm ray of light.


Saturday, March 11, 2017

Sunday, February 26, 2017

Subtext

Entered the Chinese grocery seeking liniment, but the first aisle I entered contained kitchenware, laundry, and cleaning tools.  And I, always looking for the good bargain and taking pride in tools, carefully examined all that was offered and began gathering items because they were useful.  Also took note of other items and supplies that will be needed as I begin to explore other interests (to be told later).

Slap-slap-slap - focus on the original purpose of this jaunt.  I went to a cashier, an older asian woman, and asked where I would find the liniment, but she shook her head, indicating non-comprehension to my question posed in English.  I rubbed my elbow and she directed me to aisle 3 with 3 fingers.

I went to aisle 3, which contained kitchenware, laundry, and cleaning tools.
Maybe the cashier thought I wanted to bathe myself.

I went through the rest of the store, aisle by aisle, yet could not find toiletries or other items to alleviate aches (where is the aspirin?).  Maybe the asian diet is so good that none of these items are needed?

I approached another shopper, a middle-aged asian woman, and asked if she might know where the liniment might be located.  Her red-rimmed eyes were watery and she quickly shook her head and pushed her cart down the aisle.  I wondered if she was under duress, and my aches disappeared as I followed my imagination of her being yelled at each morning, and events of her abused, distressed life.

I found a younger cashier and asked her my question, and she pointed to a locked glass-faced cabinet at the front of the store and said that I should point to the product I seek.  So they keep this product under lock and key, like cigarettes and other substances that might "walk" away!  Found my liniment, paid for it (along with something for the kitchen), and departed.

Wednesday, February 22, 2017

Before noon

At the table next to me sat two older men who ordered red wine and shots of vodka with their pastrami sandwiches.  Another table next to me ordered a glass of red with his soup and salad.  And I sat, eating my eggs and hash and drinking my hot chocolate, ordered because I had too much coffee already.

Wednesday, February 15, 2017

Wasp

Saw signs of one, unlikely in this cold weather, but there it was, on its rounds.  Went from place to place, gathering what it could while looking for the affinities it could create a bond with.  Simple.