Sunday, October 20, 2019


I feel like I am on the cusp of an impossible moment.

I have more hope than I have had in years. I don't know exactly what it is that I am doing, or where it is that I want to go, anymore. I am content somehow, and I feel like I've already put into place all the appropriate pieces to take me wherever it is that I aspire to go.

I think that my goal is now more aspirational than anything else. There is no more destination.

There is only the weird in between.

It is so weird.

It is so wonderful.

Saturday night, light night, halfway to the airport a the edge of the city, driving roads I know like the back of my hand now, after years and years of flights away, and away and up there I see those planes landing without me because tonight I'm on the ground in this car and -

We are parking. The lot is empty. I don't think this is it. We walk, random, arm in arm, talking in the quite air and sneaking up on buildings.

"It's a school."

"Yeah, they play these wherever they can."

"But, it's a catholic school."

"Heh. Yeah." His head nods and I catch a toothy smile in the breeze, and I smile as we corner the building looking for an old gym and a bunch of smokers, finding our success after several minutes of meandering in the cool fall evening.

There, under the gym lights, I sit fascinated, I sit paralyzed, I sit in silence, I sit in wonder and I look at the men, so many men, hunched and chunked up over a table, in their hoodies, and coats, and caps, and hats, and jackets with their music and conversations and random lives spilling on the table as fast and chips and as fast as cards turning over.

I sit hand after hand, folding and folding, and amused by this life. These bright lights in this old gym, this venue I know in so many lights and now, here a new one, with popup plastic picnic tables, folding chairs, ancient chips and greasy cards.

The mend around the table try to shock me with stories of strip clubs in the Middle East. Of course, there are stories, and of course they are blue, and I sit and smile and think about the lips of the pretty young blonde girl I kissed a few weeks back, while flying over the Georgia.

Life has become a symphony of caviler amusements. Of bizarre excitements and wild moods. It is unpredictable and spinning like a wheel with no point, except that the point of the spinning should be to keep going, to keep it steady, and to get better if at all possible.

Like I said, it's aspirational.

Tomorrow I pave a future of unpredictable wonder and hope. I feel hope like I never have before.

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