|
|
Yesterday looked black, didn't it? Tornados-dreams-livelihood... not a pretty picture. There was one bit that escaped mention. A minuscule turning point where i didn't wish it was all over. The jetlagged SeoulMan had returned from a harrowing three-week trip through Japan-Korea-China, barely twenty-four hours before. His mission thing, leading a group of folks for his church to do good deeds... riddled with episodes of epilepsy, diabetic shock, and mental cases. Through it all, he made a special effort to bring me a thank you gift for bailing him out of his confining work schedule. I was presented with perhaps the most hideous man's pullover "casual" shirt from his homeland. Polyester... see-thru�, greenhouse, sweat-sponge, slick as oil polyester. A texture i only find appealing in feminine underthings... when they're accentuating the curves of those for which it was intended. Navy blue, with some kind of polo player crest three-quarters up some racing stripe of white and red. On the other side, those diamond-shaped design things that you only see on some old men's socks. Something only Uncle June would wear. Or seen on old-school S0ul Tra1n. Truly... hideous. Naturally, I will find a reason to wear it. It's the point of the thing. That, and the fact that i am the anti-Chr1st of fashion. If it's so out of style that it's been completely forgotten in the deepest racks of the least-popular thrift store, it comes home. But, this is new. In this case, I'll make an exception. Just not the flannel shirt and baseball cap type. So, today... (began with a most fucked up dream. I found the phone number of my mom's cousin, who has been dead for three years. I called, it rang, he answered. It was his voice. He said that he was sorry, but he just wanted to change his life... so he faked his passing and started somewhere new. A little drastic, i was thinking... then my eyes opened) ...became a day of good deeds, passed along. Removing, replacing the expired air conditioner in my mom's house... almost, but not really, pulling something way low in my back. Giving up the Volvo to Miss Jane's daughter, whose van was on extended leave in the shop. When things are fucked up, they fuck up, completely... I could not have her being without transportation for her and her children on my conscience. I also signed on as club-DJ-for-a-night for an interesting night of dub and experiment. More as a favor than an ego trip. I keep remembering a line from The Razor's Edge... "there is no payback!" Maybe that's true. But sometimes, it's just might come back as a repulsive poylester shirt. That says something, regardless. |
|
|
