Tuesday, September 15, 2009
The best thing to happen to me...today (more or less).
The day started like so many others. Rolling out of bed and wondering "why?" "why?" so many things. I carefully re-enacted my routine: read interwebs, make smoothie, look for jobs, go to gym, eat lunch from garden bounty, ... The only for sure I have on my daily schedule is to watch Pardon The Interruption. It is the barometer for my day and how I measure time. The clock blinked 2:20p as I stepped outside for a (occasional cigarette [clove]). The sun was bright and my constant second guessing led to theorizing as to where I had put my sunglasses down. I winced hello to some walkers as the sun blinded me like Saul. I saw my 80+ year old neighbor across the street starting to pull n her large blue recycling bin. I said "hello" in my hollow neighborly way. She started shuffling traversing the street in her shoes that were a cross between crocs and nike shoxs. she said " do you mind if i smoke with you? i smoke." "of course!" I obliged out of being a southern gentlemen and neighborly. it was 2:25p and i had barely spoken as myself. my voice, when heard, was little more then a sales pitch for someone and some place I wasn't sure I knew. Francis sat on my porch and lit a singular cigarette from a pack of Pall Mall's. We began to talk about bureaucracy, community, cancer, the economy, travel and music. Ah, music. The sweet uniter of all. The transfer of emotion in one of the most scarily profound and easiest way to communicate. Her daughter sings the blues. Her grandson plays the drums. She likes everything but "that rap" and shrieking. She looks at me with a cocked head when I pause at her "rap/shrieking" comment. Surely she has heard the sounds wafting from my door. Surely she has heard the waling and sonic cacophony drifting across the 30ft concrete boundary between our homes. As she waits for my pause to evaporate I tell her that in my humble opinion there has been a disconnect. She says music should have range and I agree; even if that range is between what only dogs (and teens) can hear and whales imagine. We say our goodbyes after she offers me another Pall Mall and I offer to help her and Fred (her husband) with anything. I walked inside 20 minutes late for PTI, but thankfully for Comcast's mastering of the time space continum; I miss nothing. And that brief moment of human interaction highlights a seemingly mundane and wheel spinning day where nothing I say, create, watch or theorize can compare to. Tonight I skate patrol, by myself, around the community, the bureaucracy, the cancer, the economy, the travellers and most importantly the music. I realize that all that I am is all I am supposed to be and the kindness and nic fits of one old lady gave that to me today.
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