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I close and lock the door on life number one, and pop the latch on life number two. Just like I've done for twenty years. Monday. Jesus. This huge drag on time is not lost on the cassette deck in the Miata, either... which decided to work, today. For the sake of entertainment, I've had to dig into the dusty box of tapes... much like opening a sarcophagus of pop culture. I expected excruciating embarrassment in the playlists, but have been more surprised than disgusted... there has been music with intent in the past decades. "B" side stuff, in particular. Hell, my life is defined by the "B" sides. The motivations and scenarios still live in the sequence and rhythm... though dimly. Thank God. Instead of relics, enough time has passed that they are "songs," again. Makes me miss twelve-string electric guitars a lot. And harmonies. And humor. And saying what you mean... without a single "motherfucker" in the bunch, though there's no lack of emoting. You can there's not much going on when I have to wax poetic about cassette tapes. Just call this a diversionary tactic while I slip back into the same old groove. At least there's minimal bitching, this time around. One thing that's not been lost on me, over the weekend... how totally out-of-step with the rest of civilization I have become. Rural civilization, anyway. Just a simple tilt in schedule, and my comings-and-goings are of a completely different tempo and style. The world is day shift... and I walk by night. Illustration: when I got my hair cut on Friday, the two stylists and their clients were going on , non-stop, about possessions and babies. Someone would drive up in the lot with a child seat, and the place would be empty... baby watch stampede. Not of my life, probably not to be. I guess I'll be closing the door on that, as well. Though life has a way of changing preconceptions and situations decisively. Like Brother Bob says, "When one door is closed, another is opened." |
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