Sunday, February 6, 2011

For the sake of it : early morning sober bloggin

I've got no less than five books open now.  Some of them are in a different language.  There's random music spread about.  Papers.  Hand lotion.  There's a can of peppermint hot chocolate, empty of chocolate, now full of coins--I'm hoping enough for laundry in a few minutes, trying hard to convince myself of the absolute necessity of performing this most mundane of everyday task.

I walked the hauntingly empty streets this morning in a biting driven wind that could only be pre-church in its relentlessness.  Digital read outs seemed to confirm this, asking me to meet God later on--at 11:15 He would appear, and I accordingly, ducked into a seedy motel to ask for a phone card.  A mildly plump gentleman who had been awake all night judging by the circles under his eyes--not merely woken up by an insistent cat at 6:15--told me that I could walk three blocks back, and then take a right.  On the the next corner there were some grocery stores that sold phone cards--yeah.  That's my corner.  And they're closed.  Still, under the impression of hotel management I followed my feet into the ridges and ripples of ice and snow, and, eventually, toward the stores that he spoke of.  One appeared to be halfway open--the gate as up--or so I thought, but after I got closer, the strewn plastic bags, anti-pigeon spikes, and plastic crates struck a particularly isolated chord in me.  I think it was a C sharp minor.  Dylan liked that one.  Slide that into F# and you've got the beginnings of a lot.  And yet.  A brand of emptiness that certainly isn't advertised on the oversized brands gleaming back at me from the mall.

So I wandered home.  And now there's some redemption in tea.  The day, despite how long it may seem in front of me now, will creak by, and perhaps, if I'm lucky, I'll have one less book open at the end of it.  I'm not sure, yet, to what end.  But if there's a time for some faith, I suppose it should be right now.  Okay?

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