Thursday, June 30, 2016

The Wedding All Over Again

I say "no" a lot, or am perceived that way, and yet my "no" is in the nature of the "no" black bears embody, i.e., it is an insistence on a "yes" that remains obscure to - yet not unappreciated by - the one who wants to visit, have the vision, et cetera. Chrisoula cleans the house but leaves Husserl where I left him, on the dining room table with directions to the funeral home for a book mark, and is this not the wedding all over again. I knelt to pray, conscious of those who watched, and knowing that my father needed me to be elsewhere. The water was cool, the cup smooth and plastic, somewhat reminiscent of the 1970s.

I was only briefly writing in the old hayloft, most of the day passed teaching and driving and wondering when I'd get around to reading Henry. Shall we next inquire into the origins of extremism, which transcends race and religion? "Everybody does it" is a valid data point but there are others and one wants to be thorough, one wants to be aware of when they are not aware. You have to play the guitar you're given, not the guitar you can't afford.

Three times in five days now - about thirteen hours or so in toto - given to the turnpike which runs east to west, beginning of the day and late middle, and using the rest areas to pee and stretch but not buy food. He died early in the morning, his son was present, the one who later said at the funeral "we're free spirits here," and urged me privately to cherish whatever moments are given, no matter how hard they are, no matter how much I wish they had been given otherwise or to someone different. One parks where crows are visible picking at trash, one wonders at the language they use, and briefly envies the form of their intelligence, however unknowable, however marred by our innate habit of projection. So I am a monk after all, thank Christ.

The rooster begins carrying on at two thirty, a sort of kamikaze crowing, given the willingness of foxes here to hunt on the village side of the river. One does appreciate a comfortable rocking chair, one does want to put their feet up. Discerning writing projects is an art unto itself, the form they will take is often obscure, and decisions to have to be made before beginning, which few of us are willing to accept much less actually make. Hamburgers with bacon, trading garden lettuce for eggs, and Chrisoula's famous eggplant pizza, among other delectibles.

Sooner or later we learn to navigate funerals, always with an eye on the one we won't navigate. Not every stage needs a singer! If I never see a black bear again it will be okay because they're there, and their thereness is sufficient, it's more than sufficient unto my here (which is their there - you see?). Well, goodbye, don't forget to write.

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