Go figure

I fell blissfully asleep on the couch with my head resting in the lap of what turned out to be a Portuguese Man 0' War.

Going

The days have been passing faster lately. Something has shifted a little. I'm in some kind of motion. No longer stuck to the floor or sealed up in my bed. Let's see where this goes.

Some things

Morning horses out there on greening fields. The guy at the Honey Farms sells me on a Power Ball quick-pick. 450 Million, he tells me. You'd get a nice chunk of that too, I reply. You could fix this place up or leave it all behind. Leave it all behind, he laughs. Later, a cow is scratching her face on a fence post just a few feet away from where a young man lost his life crashing his car into a tree while running from the police. My son decided to join the stage crew and my daughter released a new song that I need to listen to right now. 

Sleep, donuts, friends

Extra sleep. I deposited two or three surplus hours in my account for a rainy day. An old friend appeared in my dream. Sam. We were working in a hospital together. I brought donuts. We were being goofballs. 

I find it sad that friendships made across the span of my life are still intact internally even though the friends are no longer a part of my waking life. Makes me wonder what would have been had we stayed in touch. Something else to regret the loss of.

Blame it on my youth

 

Gratitude

Thank you for calling. I could really use the money. 

Thank you for not calling. I really needed the sleep.

Hermano

 

Sometimes a friend has to be a little cruel in order to be your friend

I don't think my mind has ever really understood that it's supposed to be working for me. The bastard is strictly freelance. 

This morning it cooked up and served me a dream about you. I hope to forget the details quickly, and will not mention them here, but suffice to say you demonstrated, in several different ways, that you are not the girl I thought you were or hoped you might be. There was a time when that dream would have been lethal to me. 

This morning the dream was unpleasant, disgusting even, but it didn't really hurt all that much. You'd simply become someone I no longer knew and didn't want to be around. That's all. Seeing you there, I felt regret and wished that things could be otherwise, but I also felt a strong urge to go somewhere else.

My mind - my faithless employee - took something I'd idealized for so long and debased it five or six different ways in the course of three or four minutes. Remarkable. But it wasn't mocking me, not torturing me. It was simply showing me.

When I woke up, my first thought was - how could you do this to me? But now I realize its intention was to tear the Band-Aid off and push me forward once and for all. To remove the last of the scales from my inner eyes. To set me free. 

You're a weird son-of-a-bitch, Senor Mente. But thank you for having the best interest of the company at heart.

Order

Sometimes, after a long sleep, my brain feels the way one of those Zen gardens looks. Such a difference from the smoldering chaos I laid down with. It stays that way until I mess it up again. Which doesn't take long at all. 

Before work called

The water in the pool was a deep dark blue - the color of Ty-D-Bol. Jim Morrison, the long dead lead singer of The Doors, was standing poolside. He called my name out loud. The song Not to Touch The Earth was playing. He knew I liked that one so he danced a little bit for emphasis. It was as though he was dedicating the song to me. I danced back, to show my appreciation, high up on the slope above the pool. I felt a rush of joy run through me and had to restrain myself from running down and leaping into the strange liquid's container. I realized, when I woke up, that I'd almost forgotten that feeling entirely.

Nice to meet you

She's still working from home. You see her for the first time via Zoom. She seems to blossom - her smile - to come to life. She is happy to be seen. Happy to be discovered. I think my face turned red and I likely smiled with too much enthusiasm which is to say I probably appeared insane.

Worcester

There was something jarring about the first time I saw the electronic sign on Main Street. Garish.

BASIC CREMATION $1595

But now it just feels demystifying. Practical. If you haven't had to deal with it yourself, you wondered. I know I did. Now I know. It's within reach. Just a few bucks a paycheck for not that long at all.

Taxes

Oh good, it's still morning. I'm planning to do my taxes today - Easter Sunday. I should be celebrating the resurrection with marshmallow peeps and creme eggs and chocolate bunnies and jelly beans nestled in green plastic grass, but I'm on my own today. Yesterday was family day - mother, three siblings, a brother-in-law, two children. We talked family history and the general decline of the world as we usually do. Always finding a way to end on a hopeful note or with wry humor. Despair's not why we get together, after all. I cannot help but counter stories of my step-father on these occasions with tales of mistreatment. Even now, at the age of fifty-five. Remember how he used to lay down in the grass with his arm across his face for five minute naps during the farm's crazy work pace in the summers? Yeah, and remember that time he threw a claw hammer at me because I wasn't working fast enough? My mother maintains her high spirits better than I do. She always has. With church and the Hallmark Channel and selective memory and a big orange cat and her siblings and her granddaughters. It's a real skill. I've not managed, myself, to keep beliefs intact or to allow a dream to live without dissection or negation. Last night I dreamed a woman's touch. Sitting behind me, not quite fully formed, she came over me like a shadow. Only the suggestion of a touch. The sensation imagined and savored.

South Dakota

I spent a night on top of the butte. A wind rose up and frightened me because I was on the highest point in any direction for as far as I could see in the light of the moon and stars. The wind died down after I calmed myself, and I could hear the buffalo snorting and grunting down on the plain below. I guess I'd gone there hoping for a vision. It had been a sacred place for Frank Fools Crow and for Crazy Horse. A thought rose up and frightened me because I felt in my body that I was being stalked by a mountain lion. My fear died down after I'd calmed myself and trusted in my prayer. A moment came in which I felt something like the flapping of large wings right above and behind my head. 

Jesus? Nah, he ain't been in.

All the rest is just doing time, the older of the two men said. Understand?

Well, here's to time then, the younger one said raising a shot glass. He's trying to. At least a little.

Aagh, you don't know. The older one drank it down then tried to shake the thing out of his head.

Good Friday, the bartender said. Round of redemption on the house. 

She poured them each another.

The young man smiled at her with his entire face. 

The old one, with just the corners of his eyes. 

Late night caller

I was still waking up unhappily

Someone was screaming into the phone

In high shrill hysterics

Impossible to comprehend at first

Before I could formulate a response

I saw a black and white motion picture image

A man in fedora and overcoat

Slapping that frenzied face

Get a hold of yourself, man.

Clipped and stoic sounding, not cruel - a favor really

Just to help bring you back down here into your shoes

After all, we're all on the verge of a complete freak out, brother

In spite of it all, the spontaneous internal film noir gave me a chuckle

What's your emergency?

It takes about three days to make the transition from restless sleep surplus to delirious sleep deficit. In that same time frame, the new leaf you turned over flip-flops more than once. You forget pretty easily the renewed appreciation for life you discovered while you were sick when you're back to covering crises sixteen hours a day. You chose this though, right? No one imposed it. Triage, communicate, try to catch a few winks, and blissfully believe that they're done for the night when they damn well might be just getting started. 

Son of a...

It seems to me that there've been numerous instances in the course of my adult life during which I strove to bridge some gap, to cover some additional distance, to bring home a little more currency and, instead,  in my depleted condition, fell upon some mishap that totally undermined my efforts. Today, I backed my car's taillight into the corner of the porch as I was trying to leave work not having slept the night before or had a chance to eat today. At least I didn't break the freaking porch. Goodnight.

It's going to be ok (right?)

Sunday. I worked the overnight shift last night and am doing another one tonight. Driving in, there was fog the entire way through two river valleys. I managed not to run over a cottontail. 

When I arrived, there was a sad girl with a cut arm waiting. She was forthright, earnest, help-seeking. Looking into her eyes made me remember something I was told a long time ago, back when I first started working with kids with challenging behavior. 

No matter how bad it looks, you've got to be able to envision them doing well. You have to be able to see something better for them in order for them to believe that something better is possible. I believed that. It became a big part of my practice.

I tried to put that thought out of my mind last night. It hurt to remember that  because it's become so hard for me to imagine something better - for any of us. 

That's some really engaging cocktail party conversation right there. Do you see why I don't go out much?

I walked for five miles in the woods this afternoon. It felt both good and uncomfortable to get out and move a little. I noticed somewhat of a lift in my spirits at about the turn around point. Endorphins. I could use a few more of those in my life.

Affirmative

Hey, so listen to this. I know it's not much to you, but it's something to me so bear with me. I got up out of my bed of my own free will today in the morning. Then I went out and got myself a haircut. And then a smoothie at Panera because I was a little too late for breakfast. But I was happy to talk with the woman working at the counter who was Brazilian, smiling, and dark eyed. I noticed most of the people working or waiting around me were South Asian or South American and I felt at ease. It made me realize again that I work in what might be the epicenter of the whitest place in the world. I drove through weird intermittent rain and sun showers to the Super Walmart where I purchased cleanser, scrubbing sponges, and a few other cleaning products. When I got home, I tackled the long neglected bathroom and scrubbed the gross out of the tub, the sink and the toilet. I took a walk too. I found myself teetering on the brink of the funk that I've been in lately, but so far I've managed to steer clear. So, yeah.

Highs and lows

After a five or six day nap, you wake up and realize the grass has been greening and the forsythia has been yellowing while you have been sleeping. You remember, on a cellular level, that it feels more than a little bit good to be outside and under the sun's light. You are nourished by the ribbing of your coworkers and find yourself uplifted by the sight of their faces. You remember that it's Spring and consider the possibility that you may not be dying after all. 

On the way home, you stop off at a diner. The one closest to your house. They make a good Bloody Mary that goes well with a late Sunday morning omelette. It's a good place, but it's not great. The owner is a hardworking guy who's always there seating people or cooking. He's a Republican and somehow makes that fact known to you every time you go in there. He's kind of a local character, you guess, but his humor doesn't work with you. 

Today's Republican party? You imagine asking him that. Are you in the Klan too? Are you a Russian agent? I'm a fucking American, brother. You must be living on Planet Fox. 

You were having a pretty nice day right up until then. You started thinking that maybe his comments, said in your vicinity every time you go in there, - which is not very often - weren't just a matter of chance. You're not going to bum out about it though. You chart your own course. Bloody Marys aren't that hard to make. 

Willing or wiling

It's three in the afternoon and I've managed to get myself out of bed, under the shower, and into some clean clothes. I'm supposed to return to work tomorrow. I don't know if I'm sick enough to stay home or well enough to go in. You lose perspective after a while. There's no food in the house. I'm a little hungry. Perhaps I'll attempt to go out into the world with a mask and see what it feels like. My head is not as bad today.

And yet it took more effort than It should have to get out and purchase something to eat and drink. Still coughing, weak and unwell. I'll try to work from home tomorrow. Still coughing too much to work around people. 

Wednesday, I think

No improvement. There's certainly something going on in my brain though. A hot ringing feeling. Another day spent almost entirely in bed. It's a funny time to be you, my horoscope began.

Mortality

Makes sense. You're preoccupied with procrastination, plagued with regret, trying to get some oxygen past the knot of anxiety in your chest when you unknowingly step off the cliff's edge. Never even saw it coming. Happened too quickly to understand a damn thing. Just a moment - much like the others - but your last one.

When you're sick, at least it's quiet

 He was divorced too and about the same age as me. What, did she leave you for someone else? You're a good looking guy, you'll find another one. I couldn't remember exactly what had brought it about. We both had our respective lists of grievances. We ended up - in separate cars - leaving it gut shot and whimpering on the side of the road. We'd done that many times before but someone always buckled and went back for it. This time no one did.

This guy was lonely. He wanted someone else. He thought that would solve it, and maybe it would, but i don't think so. Who the hell am I though? I'm in no rush to jump in to any of that. What for? It no longer makes any sense. 

This new variant is a little harsher than the original. More coughing and sneezing. Got tired carrying a pizza from the car to the house. Spent most of the day in bed. Out of work for the week. Maybe I'll get the taxes done.

What's your name this time?

The ringing head ought to be the tip off that your body is fighting a virus. Two positive home tests. It's been a couple of years since you visited last. Let's see how we've both changed in the interim, shall we?

Espresso martini

Some sickness has befallen me - throat, lungs and head. Covid again? I don't think so, but I'm tired. 

I took my clothes to the laundromat and dragged my butt into a local place for a meal. My townsfolk filled the place. I feel no relation, no kinship. I don't know any of them after more than 20 years. I feel trapped in this place when I realize I live here.

Your mistakes, like a yellow brick road stretching backward. Give me something.

Not that white

Maybe I found my watering hole out there. It's been difficult. 

This place keeps the cumbia music channel playing and the bartender makes a very good michelada. The michelada got me remembering Texas - a Mexican shade of Texas - where I'd caught just a glimpse of the outskirts. The laughter of new friends who welcomed me by making fun of me, like Indians do, and the warmth of it takes away any sting there might have otherwise been. And a dark eyed girl - her humor, honesty, beauty, uniqueness - only a glimpse, a taste, a memory now. 

And then I was back in Mexico - Tijuana. I first crossed the border alone - against advice - when I was 18. People told me bad things would befall me and, in doing so, only quickened my pace. 

I spent much of my off-time there in my late teens and early 20's. And despite all the warnings about how rotten and infested it was, the Mexican people never harmed me, never robbed me, never cheated me, never took advantage of me. The police robbed me, but never the people in my small orbit. Not the bartenders, waiters, bouncers, whores, Chiclet kids, hoteliers, bus drivers, taco stand chefs, hot dog cart maestros (oh, those hot dogs wrapped in bacon kept me alive). Not the deformed beggars stained black by the leaded exhaust of taxis and buses or the hungry, seductive alley cats. Not the Mariachis, the tough guys, the soldiers, or the street punks. Certainly never Irma Lopez, her name I can still remember, who came to meet me for dancing on Sunday afternoons. 

The Mexican people didn't do me any harm during a time when I didn't do myself any good. In fact, they often showed me undeserved kindnesses, both small and large, gifted me silent acts of protection, granted me blessings, and exercised boundless patience for me. 

I found a good place tonight. I will return again.