Last night in my clean sheets and relative sobriety of deep sleep i was woken at intervals by my beckoning bladder and the tumult from an upended plastic canister just outside my ajar window and its incumbent invitation to the mosquito hordes from the relentless rain of weeks. I sealed the window jam with the spoon wedge that rendered the room relatively weather tight and while not moisture-proofing my sheets from my nocturnal anxiety fueled night sweats quieted my rest to a deep sleep. This morning the rain kept apace and my well intentioned last rent payment took hind-tit to the interrupted Louis L’Amour story part II i left in abeyance the night before. 3 days without a bicycle circuit renders me reckless and lackadaisical - but at peace. A long chat with a stranded kindred spirit from my youth opened access to comfort for a yearning Spaniard Doyenne Bruja from a previous domicile processing much loss of her own. A full day that i will recall for many moons because it will be amongst the last i know from where i sit.
Nor is that meant as lament, but welcome for what i know not about what comes next. I cut off the heat of my cooking meal to preserve nutrition and have made arrangements to “smudge” my being from this house hoping that action will somehow rectify and unwind karma i do not understand about where i live. Nor is this bizarre ritual unique to this home as much as a linear acceptance of my particular pathology, or embrace of my uniquely loving arc, depending on where one stands in the equation. The tumult outside my bedroom window into the laundry room continued as i prepared this day’s writings and became only more fractious and urgent. I was left with no choice but to confront my waking anxiety, peaceably informed by anomalous gnawing on a bottle of Apple Cider Vinegar, i’d only seen once before on a bootleg bottle of Rice Wine.
When i stilled my internal beast to face the rat i knew to be there in the corner, trapped under some unintended plastic container, i picked up the plastic peanut butter container and realized this poor fuck, a kindred spirit shared a voracious appetite for peanut butter and rice wine and had been trapped in our shared rain-soaked cell without nutrition for days, possibly weeks. Compassion is in fact a verb, and my surprise will hopefully illumine my own path down the dark valley we all face to the future; however this intrepid little fuck gnawing through a closed peanut butter canister for its remnants just nailed home for me the commonality we all face - abundance encased by plastic · tell me metaphor is not magic and we are not the dumbest of creatures in the batch.
What is left to me is to sort through the available repertoire of behaviors that are perfectly normal to my history, from lecher to saint, teacher to student - individual to indefinite. Or is it even up to me to determine. If it is simply a case of surrendering to the will of the universe and to as has been said countless times elsewhere “go with the flow,” what of my preoccupation with purpose and decision beaten into me by my willful but loving parents¿ what of my baser instincts that the “higher vibration” proscribes but which seems to lend little material, spiritual or emotional support¿ much less the ephemeral god of synchronicity that the intellectuals bandy about, but die with its secrets on their lips?
I cannot see forward, however much i have been groomed for reading trajectory out of nothing more than a cycloptic catch of a falling baseball too far away and distorted to understand its launch much less catch it in the webbed pocket of my coveted “Spaulding” glove. It wasn’t until much later using the mechanical artifice of a “slow pitch” batting cage in one of the more paradoxical periods of my life that i was able to apply my encyclopedic understanding of baseball physics to learn that there were few places within that “cage” i could not place the more visible slower soft ball where i chose. It was amongst the happier times in my life, no matter how many games our team “Ma’s Marauders” of Ma Spring ‘em Bail Bonds fame lost
jts 21/12/2020
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