Too close to home this time

"I suppose I do have one unembarrassed passion. I want to know how it feels to care about something passionately."
-Adaptation

While lost in thought driving this evening, I managed to notice three cars pass me at a stop light. In the evening light the drivers in each car reflected the faces of three women, all older than me; their faces were diffused but captured like photographs in different stages of ageing. They were alone in their vehicles.

At that moment I said to myself, women are by nature ill-fated (is that even a word?). We always outlive the men we choose. Men typcially have a shorter life span. I wondered as I waited for the light, if those women were widows.

The light changed, and my mind continued on the subject. Yeah, but we are survivors. We were built to outlast any trauma, any horror, any complication-- we must carry on the race. We can withstand the worst and will outlive our counterparts. This thought took me to my old residence. I stopped by to feed the last of the surviving pets--a female cat named Francis. Reuben was put down one week ago today.

After my dealings with Francis, I opted to visit Reuben in the backyard, a shallow grave was dug in a place I requested, hoping it would not be festooned with weeds come late fall. Unfortunately, it was gathering serious moss, and I bent down to pull the weeds from his final resting place.

His grave seemed bloated, as if his decaying body underneath had ballooned in size, and the only thing keeping him from scratching the surface were the heavy boulders placed on top to keep rodents away.

Much to my surprise, I wept and for a long time over his grave. It must have been a release of all thing that were buried with that cat and the dying relationship with one man..I don't know.

After I collected myself, I returned to the car, noticing my phone had a message.
It was rare for me to receive messages, and I chuckled to myself, finding it ironic that I left the phone for 10 minutes and, go figure, someone called.

It was my mom. Her voice was strange and distorted as she started. My immediate thought was that my great aunt of 86 was dead. I have been anticipating that call for a few months now. But instead, it WAS a death--only closer to home. My neighbor--our neighbor of 25+ years was dead. He was 67 years old.
My mother was sobbing on the line as I tried to make sense of the message, how did it what did it when did it, what about...I cannot believe it. Upon calling back, the only thing I recall is the choking, familial sound of my mother saying of Judy, the surviving widow, "... the hardest thing was saying goodbye to him..."

I think for my mom it was her first real jolt of mortality. And it scared the shit out of her.

Now, standing in my kitchen, I wait for pending autopsy news, funeral and wake announcements and consider how in the world I will soothe my parents as they recognize the fragility and fleeting-ness of their lives.

Life's lessons are hard. Glad the last few years have taught me coping mechanisims for the unimaginable because, it seems, that the unimaginable is here.

"This charming man", Adaptation and Kaufman

Punctured bicycle
On a hillside desolate
Will nature make a man of me yet ?

When in this charming car
This charming man

Why pamper life's complexity
When the leather runs smooth
On the passenger seat ?

I would go out tonight
But I haven't got a stitch to wear
This man said "it's gruesome
That someone so handsome should care"

Ah ! A jumped-up pantry boy
Who never knew his place
He said "return the ring"
He knows so much about these things
He knows so much about these things



On my last day of vacation I am watching Adaptation again. Have not seen this is so long. I cannot believe how much this movie resonates with me.

And Charlie Kaufman...well, on a much smaller scale.
Think I will go back to the old house and pull weeds.

"Country Mile"

Silver Birch against a Swedish sky
The singer in the band made me want to cry
We’re all inside our own heads now
We are leaving new friends
We are leaving this town
I wish you could be here with me
I would show you off like a trophy
The road it winds, it twists, it turns, now my stomach burns

Once again I’ll be the foolish one
Thinking a blink of these lashes would make you come
Don’t you worry, don’t get in a state
I don’t believe in true love anyway
Who’s being pessimistic now?
I could document this as our first and our last row
The more you look forlorn, the more to you I warm

I won’t be seeing you for a long while
I hope it’s not as long as a country mile
I feel lost
Camera Obscura fm. Let's get out of this country

Been a strange few days for me. Must be the waxing moon that is making life twisted. I am trying to get myself back into work mode. Been pouring over articles and plays while organizing my room. I'm definitely not where I need to be. Fortunately, I have another week to prepare.

I am still bewildered by the opposite sex. I think I am destined to be alone. The worst for me is not having someone to say goodnight.

Music has been a sancutary for me. I spent gas money on 2 new albums, Camera Obscura and The Evangelicals. Lots of music coming to Bloomington, including Calixco in September.

Must get back to work. Hope you are well.