because the wash

Post-it note on my bed

I was just about to go to sleep, just beginning to descend into the mattress when i came across this cryptic message written on a post-it note, slightly attached to my pillow. i really have no clue as to its origins, or its purpose or intent. my attempts to decode it have been fruitless so far. have not born fruit.

Could the messenger be referring to me? is it me who is the it who lacks a bit of drying? Since it was posted to my bed and, as far as i know, i am the only one who has slept in it of late, then the inference is pretty clear.

I’m really impressed with whoever this messenger is. he/she/it has observed enough of me to acknowledge that I am lacking something … and apparently what i lack  is drying.

But the words are also consoling because i only lack a bit of drying. And if I am only partially dry, that bodes well for the future. Especially considering the 2nd half of the message, because the wash. A harbinger of renewal and hope to come. The wash is coming. Whatever bits of dryness I was lacking will soon be washed away.

Which is really great news. i just have to make sure i am where I am supposed to be when the wash arrives here. Unless I am missing something, the note does not leave any indication. Maybe the messenger will offer another clue tomorrow. Maybe I should just put this out of my head and allow it to happen whenever it happens. that’s what i’ll try to do.

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3 seconds later

i am not the organism that i used to be

this is simply an observation, not necessarily a criticism

i am not alone in this respect, i tend to think

who amongst us are the same organisms we once were, even 3 seconds ago?

  • even when change seems unattainable, or uncontainable
  • even while aging

you know, it’s possible to do both at the same time, i tend to think

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pressure cooker

i can never tell whether i am utterly lacking in self-discipline or if my internal taskmaster is so omnipresent, unrelentingly harsh, so unforgiving if i depart from what i expect of me, i must be a complete slacker. and that is the kind word for it.

maybe only a slacker would think that everything requires discipline. there’s job work, of course, but then there’s diet, exercise, piano practice, writing this sentence, calling my sister, washing dishes, picking things up, putting things down, getting from point A to point B, calling my mother, laundry, preparing for job interviews, figuring out what to wear for when,  meditation, stretching, answering texts and emails, not forgetting to pay bills before collection agencies start calling me, remembering to sleep, take medications. it all feels like work and discipline. it doesn’t feel organic.

the only way to accomplish anything is to create a pressure cooker for oneself to live. but it’s a not a place i would recommend as a place to live for anyone. and it does not make me a better citizen of the earth.

there has to be another way.

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labor day

my labor day resolution:

dream

more

productively

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Bob

i can’t believe how quiet it is tonight. it’s almost startlingly quiet. except for the persistent ringing in my ears that began at a Wilco concert in Seattle in 1997 and never quite went away. someone at a meditation retreat told me that i am actually hearing the voices of angels. what a strange but nice thought, i thought. i did not know that american tibetan buddhists believed in angels.

the other dawn, i was startled out of my sleep by a voice, this subdued authoritarian male voice calling the name “Bob.” As if he were trying to waken me, which he succeeded in doing. But i thought i was dreaming. But then he repeated, “Bob,” more insistently and impatiently. I stood up from the bed and turned on the lights. i knew he was there but i could not see him. i was mildly freaked.

“Go away,” I cried. “Please. There’s no “Bob” in here. You’ve wandered into the wrong bedroom. Just go. Please.” No answer. “I’m not Bob.” But I think he was gone by then.

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afloat

i felt so duplicitous today. it’s true. i’ve been dreading the next Employee Appreciation Day ever since last January’s Employee Appreciation Event/Bowling Party… the one where the fundamentalist Christian animation instructor (who had just completed his first feature film, an animated version of the new testament)  engaged me in conversation to ask if I was a Christian, then asked me if I was agnostic, and then asked me if i was “one of god’s chosen people.” i can’t remember if i blogged about that or not. but i’ve been hoping against all hopes that i would be employed elsewhere before the next party came around.  i guess i have not have found that elsewhere just yet.

so it’s on Tuesday… and it’s a party on a boat. and i imagine i would be noticed if i jumped off, even if i swam under the boat, never coming to the surface until i was safely ashore. so i’ve resigned myself to being there and somehow staying afloat. even though i’ve gotten so much better at swimming this week. it would be so totally tempting.

but then, just yesterday, along comes skin cancer–and with it, my doctor’s instructions to stay out of the sun. i really wanted to keep this whole thing private, between you, dear reader, and me. but the thought of adding sun exposure anxiety to social anxiety was too much to bear. and then i’ll have all of these medical appointments during work works i will to explain–and i’ve probably already ignited enough suspicion with other absences, or so i imagine.

i really didn’t know how to skirt around the issue so i emailed my boss:

Dear P____,

I just wanted to let you know that i will not be able to attend Employee Appreciation Day because I have come down with skin cancer and am under doctor’s orders to avoid exposure to the sun at all costs [in actuality, i was simply instructed to wear a hat].

Thank you for your understanding. And have a great weekend!

It just seemed like my only choice was to tell her. but i still felt kind of conniving because i was secretly happy to have this unquestionable excuse to not be on a boat for 4 hours, which would be different story if there people there whom I could actually relate to,  such as you, dear reader.

i know this skin thing is really common and not at all a big deal, especially since it is apparently safe enough to wait more than a month for them to schedule “procedure.” but it does not help when they tell you to keep an eye on it in case anything changes. to which i could only reply, “um… ” and then forget the question i had meant to ask before hanging up. i am on orange alert. it’s weird knowing that there’s something strange there, hopefully not growing

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jazz fest

at the jazz festival tonight. i was seated next to this very friendly woman who kept finding famous chicago musicians scattered around the audience, entire branches, sub-branches and sub-sub branches of families from all over the south side of chicago. somehow she was related to all of them. i could tell she was really happy to be there. She gave me a very conversational survey of the history of  jazz, much of which I knew already but i didn’t interrupt her because I could tell she was taking such joy in telling me how this or that came to be, whom began whom, starting from Scott Joplin up to the guys she recognized in the audience.

The concert began with this really amazing group of musicians and the woman was astonished to see that a few whom she thought were dead, were nowhere near dead. Not even close And the one she was absolutely certain was dead, was the highlight of the show. his music was otherworldly but i think he was still inhabiting his earthly form.

Still it’s always nice when people when you run into people who used to be dead, but no longer are. this was particularly re-assuring since I learned earlier that day that I have skin cancer. It’s hopefully harmless and treatable, but there’s something about that C-word that gets to you in surprising ways.

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backstroking

i asked this man if i could share a lane with him

in the swimming pool

but i could tell he was not very enthused

which made me feel unwelcome

and i wanted to swim elsewhere

but there was a traffic jam in the pool and this was the only lane that was open. i could have just left and waited for another lane to open, but i was determined to ride the course. and there were no guarantees about someone else in another lane…  would it be any easier to swim with them?

so i tried to make my body as narrow as possible to make sure that our bodies did not crash into each other while swimming in opposite directions.

more for his sake than for my own

i was trying my best to be narrow, barely traceable, a barely traceable arrow. i might be a flawed, flailing, warped arrow,  but deep down, i was truly an arrow.

he was swimming the backstroke. which made me realize why he did now want to share the lane.

his backstroke swayed between the lanes, sometimes taking up both lanes. while swimming backwards. kind of like a drunk driver. and kicking his leg, too.

maybe i should have helped him out instead of trying to be untraceable. not that i know that much about swimming.  it was hard to tell whether he would have even accepted my help.  but i think, given the opportunity, i could have helped him. Someday he will realize that.

But I hope i am elsewhere by then. it’s entirely possible.

i hope he realizes that now.

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the boxer

someone on the radio was talking about the difference between courage and fearlessness. since i was listening while driving, i was only half-attentive and i wish the other half of me could listen to the other half of his explanation because when i think about it, i’m not sure of the distinctions.

actually it’s coming back to me somewhat. i think this was canadian radio show and the host was interviewing a boxer, probably a boxer with a newly published book. if i understood correctly, the boxer was explaining that fearlessness allowed him to face an opponent in the boxing ring. but it took courage to ask a boss for a raise or to ask somebody out on a date. i was hoping the interviewer would ask whether it took courage or fearlessness to ask a boss out on a date (which may or may not lead to a raise). and what about boxing with a date? what would that entail?

i guess i am confused. whenever i ask my friends who used to live around here but who now inhabit the sky…  whenever i ask them for courage, i usually pair it with a request for fearlessness. up until 8:45 tonight, i had always thought they were one and the same.

but i think this boxer would tell me that courage is not about fearlessness at all. it’s more about working with and through fears.

so now that makes perfect sense.

thanks for reading as i tried to sort that one out.

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water

i don’t know why it’s taken me so long to realize that swimming is the key to my existence. i might be a terrible swimmer (and it’s humbling to be swimming alongside  100 year old men and women who are swimming laps around me quite effortlessly, but maybe that’s the point.) Yet somehow i just feel exponentially more bold and alive after a swim than i ever could anticipate. so i really don’t mind being a the worst swimmer on this planet, especially if it frees me up to live up to my potential as an inhabitant of this planet.

and now i can see why Iggy Pop is so into it.

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air and water

at my friend L’s wedding today. if L would not have been in it, all would have been lost. especially at the reception, which was lunch at an Indian restaurant for about 20 of us, at this immensely long table. i’ve never been able to hold a sustained conversation at a table of that length. nor follow one.

i found myself seated next to this peculiar, very chatty man. his wife, who turned out not be his wife but his girlfriend recognized me from my performances i can’t count the number of years ago. there were so many years. i think i have lived long enough so that everyone looks familiar to me in one way or another. but i can never quite identify where i know them (everyone) from. her name was Maggie.

the chatty man, it also turned out, was the father of the groom. and i thought it was peculiar how distant they seemed, not only by the length of the table, but i sensed very little in the way of what i would interpret as a relationship.  i would never be able to guess they knew each other, even in passing. it was odd. it felt odd that he seemed to be more attentive to me than to the woman who was not his wife,  his son, his ex-wife, his new daughter-in-law,  her parents, etc.

he sort of reminded me of this man i once knew who was married to the ex-friend of my former girlfriend in new orleans. this was the kind of man who had something to say about everything, but usually whatever he was saying only made sense in the most obtuse, accidental way since he was either vastly stoned or inebriated. it was tiring for me to be around him. i feel terrible saying that, but i can’t imagine a likelihood where he could stumble upon this paragraph. but that’s the person the groom’s father reminded of, and i almost called him by the name of my ex-girlfriend’s former friend’s husband (Lyle), instead of his proper name (Dan). Dan and Lyle. Lyle and Dan.

at one point he asked me if i was from this area. and i answered that i’ve lived in the area most of my adult life but grew up in one of the suburbs. he asked me the name of the suburb. and when i told him, he said, “oh, so you’re a cake eater.” I said, “A what?” He said, “That’s where all of the cake eaters live.” I asked him to define the meaning of a cake eater, and he said, “you know,  the kind of people who like to have their cake and eat it, too.” i thought, “hmmmmm…  interesting. i think i’ve just been profiled.”

i didn’t feel the need to justify or qualify anything about my upbringing because i was secretly wishing he would  pay attention to his existing and new family members. Maggie, however, expressed her disapproval of the cake eater label, since she grew up in a suburb adjacent to mine. And now we were both living hand-to-mouth existences. she did not even have health insurance. and of course, i have narrowly dodged losing Everything, at least once or twice. I wanted to ask him, “do you have any sense of what that’s like?” but i didn’t say a word.  i just waited. and eventually, he decided to meet his son’s new in-laws.

(but later that day, i realized i was being equally judgmental. I had judged Dan to be like Lyle in much the same way he was judging me to be a cake eater. And we have at least 2 essential things in common. We were both born, at some point. We will both die, at some point.)

then Maggie began a conversation with me and we somehow got on the subject of last week’s air & water show, which is an annual event where multitudes of people congregate along the lake (the water) to watch an aerial (the air) display of military prowess. people just flock to it. i always imagine them to be gazing in awe at the sky in much the same way as the people who watched Moses descend from Mount Sinai reciting the 10 commandments. at least in the movie version.

those of us not in awe of the air & water show lived in dread of it, summer after summer.

i spent a large part of that day stuck in traffic because i forgot that this was absolutely the worst possible day to drive anywhere. but there was no other option for me to travel to a very very distant suburb to attend L’s shower. and by the time i arrived there, at the shower, i was irritated, exhausted and in one of the worst moods ever. and i was 20 minutes late. As soon as I got out of the car,  L rushed me into the house to join the shower because they were all waiting for me. and it began with a very devout, unfathomable prayer. i tried to follow but i could not grasp the words.

meanwhile, back at the air & water show, Lyle/Dan and and Maggie were out on his sailboat at the epicenter of the military display. And the day was not going very well for them.  as Maggie related to me, they were having a difficult, difficult day. A really bad day. So bad, that it more or less destroyed their relationship. We agreed that there was just something about that air & water show that brought out the worst in people.

Maggie told me she had decided that Dan would just be a friend, although he was not aware of that yet. she had never dated a white-collar person before, which i think is another form of profiling.

that was 9 hours ago and something tells me that Dan and Maggie might not be together anymore. but so often, i am so wrong about these things. i wish them well.

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unphased

somebody removed a small section of my head today, i guess for my health, but i don’t think it had any medicinal purposes that i was aware of. i actually did not at all mind, this biopsy. the doctor was amazed by how unfazed i was during the little procedure. i told her i could barely feel a thing. actually, i said, if you’d like to remove more, i say go for it. take as much as you’d like.

it will probably be another 10 days before i hear the results, and i am doing my best to sweep it all under the carpet (or rug). you, who are reading this sentence, are the first person i am talking to about this. and i’m not really sure why i am telling you because now i’ll be worried that you’ll be worried about me. but really, there’s nothing to worry about.

i am probably more worried about listening to a couple of voice mails that i’ve avoided for the past 2 days. or about getting enough sleep, real sleep, tonight. but again i must plead with you not to worry about my worrying. i will be fine. i know you will be, too.

if only i could just finish this apartment hunt. but let’s not talk about that right now. i should be more like my sister who always gives me the same answer to any question i ask her about how she is or what she has been working on. “I don’t really want to talk about that now.” And so i stop asking.

i can’t even remember why i mentioned her. oh… that’s right. because I can see some advantages of not talking about some (but not all) things. It’s a nice option to have.

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no time

this work/life balance thing. i’m not not very good at it this week. maybe it’s related to the full-moon that i am guessing was last night. maybe not. but i was feeling one step behind. the world was moving one step ahead. i couldn’t keep pace.

i wish i could devote more time to writing. even when it’s something i keep writing about, again, and again, and again. my priorities have been elsewhere. and i can feel it. my writing can feel it. it’s hard not to notice. do you notice?

maybe it will come back. that feeling. that writing. do i write my way through it? or should i go on sabbatical? I’m not ready for sabbatical. Who has time?

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stranger day

one of the strangest days of late. one of those days where you one up against one wall after another instead of going anywhere.  but i don’t really feel like going into any detail.

i’ll can tell you more about it tomorrow, if have not already forgotten by then.

but there were nice moments. seeing my friend L glowing at her wedding shower … and then going swimming afterwards redeemed much of the strangeness that was today.

when in doubt, swim.

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watery eyes

i feel like i’ve been crying for almost the entire week. it’s either this deep sadness or allergies or a combination of both. it has been a really sad day for reasons i can’t explain. and my allergies are really getting to me, too. it’s hard to tell if one triggers another. eyes do not get watery on their own

things just haven’t felt the same since C crossed me off her list 3 months ago. gosh, i take everything so seriously. thank god i have these allergies to distract me, to keep me company.

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