I’m used to seeing posters advertising upcoming concerts, but it’s been instructive to see lone flyers for DJ plying their trade at venues close by and spinning tracks I might fly by briefly in a YouTube trawl but never go deeply into. Today’s flyer was for one last night; it looks like it was good.
I have been less than diligent lately about moving, and have been seeing exactly what I’d expect. So it was back on the bike today, but also adding a little retail therapy as extra incentive. There’s something in seeing where the flesh meets the fabric, and making good on getting in gear once again.
Gray powder all over the vehicle, and at least a month since its last wash, so off to visit the gas station with the disco light carwash, topping off the tank in the process. Oh, also the usual needles, a call with a previous-gig update, and a prospect of new roadway resurfacing. No wonder I rested.
A decent guess at a newspaper name, and a, lot of deep thoughts about where I’ve been, where I’m at now and where we’re going. Oh, and there were breakfast fixings too. Going home meant passing up happy hour, but getting up when I do now means happiness lands differently on my calendar and my clock.
Nothing like the margins to remind you of your center, or at least correct what you think you’re doing. Am I seeing so poorly when it comes to what I’m doing on purpose? Is it unintentional? At least there’s some comfort in unexpected check-ins and tips, truer and smaller tips of the compass needle.
An unexpected outcome, positive and part of well received efforts, is best not looked directly in the face. Ideally, one turns away to the space nearby and focuses attention and intention on other tasks. If you don’t get superstitious about spooking the luck, it won’t run off when you need it later.
It was one of these days where you get pulled in a bunch of directions, and even your tangents have tangents you can’t follow so much as try to slowly gather yourself and pursue like dollar bills in a windstorm. Will you get some money back? No. A ll’l? Maybe. Signs point to: proceed, in good faith.
Of course you see smoke on the edge of the town, where you’re in a car leaving the city and unable to do much about it other than watch and wonder what’s burning this time and hope nobody’s too badly hurt and marvel at the quality of the air and light drawing it like a tiny curtain over the skyline.
A day for A. and I to catch a matinee, like the unapologetically old folks we’re working on becoming, watching another star famous for multiple decades run, jump and punch his way through trains, ride horses and drive tiny cars through alleyways. Then there was chaat, grocery shopping and a bit of rest.
Not a completely offline day, as some parts of things don’t grind to a halt, but there was some downtime and journaling, some beer and wings, a little reading and a lot more to go. Not so much a celebration for making much of the month, but a breather before bearing down to go back at it again anew.
