regret #97

as soon as the plane landed in Chicago, I knew I had made a humongous mistake. gone were the mountains and the mists above the mountains. gone was the rainforest. gone were the double rainbows over Green Lake. gone was the easy access to Vancouver. gone were the hiking trails, even within the city. gone were my loving joyful (even when cynical) friends. gone were the intoxicating bookstores, gone were Thursday nights with the Black Cat Orchestra at the O.K. Hotel,  gone were the Master Musicians of Joujouka hypnotizing us all at a former comedy clubs, my afternoons spent at the Elliott Bay Book Company. 

gone were the long bike rides from work, the mystical trails from the Microsoft Campus to that neighborhood whose name I forgot. The one with the incredible shrimp burritos. And the woman at the cafe who I did not have the courage to ask out, which was fine because she already had a boyfriend, but I accepted that. gone was she.

what made me lose heart and courage? why could I not wait a month or even a day or a week? it was a moment of panic… as if my entire security blanket was whisked away from me and I was falling fast… all because of a fucking sinus infection. a very prolonged one… but still. why did i fear i could not rise above it?

it was a stupid fear and i let it rule me…  and then, as soon as the plane landed, and my heart sank, sank further further down as I was driven through the hellish, joyless suburb office park highways… how could I have let this happen?

i should have never

left Seattle just because

it would not stop raining

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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One Response to regret #97

  1. We’ve got to get out of here and into a place we’re surrounded by good, lovely things and people. Must must must. Must not let things keep us here.

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