the Now

Already, the day is done and the darkness falls on the wings of night (in Longfellow fashion). It's ten-o-clock and I've promised myself I would actually go to bed. Not at midnight or 0100 when my mind finally succumbs to my fatigue. Then I'm left with only 5 hours or so of sleep and this is not enough - particularly when the gap accumulates.

It rained today. I changed the bicycle saddle last night and put wax on the chain of my bike - but the rain was so excessive I gave up the effort of the 13 mile ride and simply took the train to "V" station and rode my second-hand clunker bicycle with the tilting seat and broken kickstand the 5 miles in the downpour.

I ran on Saturday. with the club. Afterwards, bicycled back home with "F", a nice guy who shared coffee and then came around for a turkey salad lunch at my place and helped me hang mirrors and pictures.

I've been listening to "The Sudden Appearance of Hope" by Claire North. (I'm a big fan of her work - even if this wasn't her best writing. "The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August" was excellent.) The concept is interesting: Hope Arden is forgettable. Immediately after interacting with anyone, the other person forgets her - forgets the conversation and her existence. So her relationships are one-sided and short-term because the other person can't remember her long enough to form an attachment or be impacted by their interaction. It's an interesting concept and perhaps a bit more resonant because these are the relationships I form. Of course I can talk to my family and friends - but they are far away and my relationships are so short: the man next to me on the train or bus; Maya who is my running companion on Saturdays; the women in the gym locker room in the morning who chat with me while we shower and get ready for the day; the men at the music store who sell me guitar strings and give me coffee and try to talk me into buying the electric piano; and the dozens of people in coffee shops and restaurants with whom I chat comfortably, and then leave as easily. There is only this moment. This now. Now I am interested in your SCUBA diving lessons and the man you like at work; now I am interested in your dog; now I am interested in your mathematics course in college; now I'm interested in your love of baking. These relationships are unfulfilling but they are what I have and so I cling to them.  At some point, a few of them may grow into something more. But now, tonight, I am alone.

 My apartment is full of boxes. My mind is also full of boxes. It's better to be alone when you would just spend your effort apologizing for all the clutter and knowing you don't have the energy or time to sort things out just yet.