March 15th, 2013

my eyeballing

the 10-day forecast sucks, but i shall soon see with new eyes

i did my part.  i made visits to a place of vision, and then took friends, and talked to the man i liked all of along with his name, our eyes meeting above glad mouths more and longer than was called for, and as much as i wanted, and i said what the hell and i paid, and my friend said yes you want the bag, that's part of the fun, walking away with your bag, and out on the street i loved her for that, though it's not the same to me, not her giddy bouncy float of joy, but hey maybe i can train up, then i went on the computer and made a phone call and got a phone call and went on the computer and made another phone call, and i went to another place, and i read on my book and followed the friendly woman from room to room to sit with my chin in the cups at the several binocularial hoohas and i read on my book a lot in another and the man came and said no let's go to this one and we did, and i talked to the man and laughed about things and watched him decide, faster and moreso this time than last, that i was worth more and better talk, and we did that and laughed and were quick back and forth, and he shared what he wanted to share, and i told him a or b and better or worse and he said not to worry i couldn't get it wrong he knew the right answer, and how that could be i didn't know or care, it was okay, it was good, and i read more on my book, and he sat again and showed me the model and pointed and talked and gave his order and i promised again not four years next time, and i sat at the narrow gray table with the new struggling but confident woman who clearly has had some support in her life and all the walls there were windows and the rain had let up and i answered on polish and coat and sat but didn't read on my book as she shuffled charts and checked with the other woman and put numbers on papers and i paid and i paid and now i just wait, and if nothing goes wrong i shall soon see with new eyes, at least one way.  at least one way.
mitto mittere

olde Chelsea, olde finding one's way

Last night I wound up in Chelsea, trying to clear my head, and when it seemed time to head back to my own berg, I commenced meandering the car around the streets off the main downtown road, to the east, the way I used to do, to find the way back to the road that always seemed a bit a puzzle to get to, the country road back home. It runs a while alongside the railroad tracks, I recalled, so sleuthing a path to that landmark could help, could help me know when I'd found it. But that's right, it always was a little tricky to pick up the trail back, back when I used to head up that way, with people, with time for the slow road, with temperament for it, with money for gas and still a good bit of that spirit of itching to roam.

I'd probably made five or six ninety-ish-degree turns, in the neighborhoods of old square houses back there, when I remembered suddenly that something in my pocket could point me where I was going. Something I didn't have back then. With some reluctance, but thinking of the doggie awaiting, I got it out and turned it on, and all the old scent of the fun of not knowing which way to go was, poof, gone. Just north on Freer, but less free, and one more turn and that's that.

It was good to be by grain towers and places selling the likes of gravel, and all so dark and starry and people-asleep. And it was good to be lost and a little frustrated with it. It's good sometimes just to find the way.

One time when I was heading into some new town to see Lee Ann and Lorne, I had her on the phone about when I'd arrive, but I stopped her when she seemed to be about to give directions. I started to say I just wanted to try to find it, to drive until I got there, but I didn't get it all out, cuz she knew why already. And that I would have more fun that way, and why. You only get to guess, really fully, the first time, after all. Unless it's the way out of Chelsea, and you never memorize it, because you know you can figure it out soon enough, as long as there's no one in the car who hates to be "lost."