So planes are still planes: you buy a ticket, you board, they go up, you freak out over turbulence, you sip V8 or juice, they come down, and you’re thousands of miles from where you started out in a different time zone. But that bit’s just space, and doesn’t even account for That Other Time Stuff.
Local
I’ve no local yet to replace my old spot, which closed in September. I did find myself at World Grounds this morning with an hour free. There was coffee, à la carte menu items, weeklies on tables: if not for the running industrial floor fan in the open doorway, it could’ve been 2019, or even 1995.
Carols
In the bookstore, already wall to wall Christmas carols out of overhead speakers. At the pet store, more carols rain down in advance of an actual pet Santa appearance. At the chaat house, blessed respite. Then to the grocery store, with tiny trees for sale outside and carols with autotune blaring.
Not working
Up goes the music, down comes the noise. If I’m still for a moment, I realize I’m not working. I didn’t have to over the last two holidays. Will I figure out how to be efficient, useful, willing to gloss over annoying stressful moments? Hell, can that happen here? I’ll get some reading in and see.
Symmetry
Sometimes there’s symmetry, but only if perception permits it. Toggle a domain’s PHP upgrade settings, then notice it’s about to expire so you renew it. Pick up a notepad, then realize it’s opposite the calendar from the last one started. Squint into the mirror while shaving and, well, say no more.
Gauntlet
There was some Ceiling and Walls discourse early on. The day and its demands intruded soon enough, from early rain to an ocean of numbers into an empty hundred years of nothingness, with a looming gauntlet of words ahead. Tomorrow marks a half year, barely two hundredths of that. But first, sleep.
Horizon
Overnight lane closures congest easy breathing paths when least helpful. Calls and emails fly off fingertips and land against poorly configured voicemail boxes and delays in understanding. Clear and warmish days end with clouds massed on the horizon, biding their time and boding ill. shakes fists
Gray
I don’t know if I’ve reached the end of denim but I do like being able to layer in cooler weather. A tie, a scarf, a lightweight sweater, a jacket and even the leather jacket I was having second and third thoughts about, all conspire in Chayka-ish gray. Dress for anything, and it just might happen.
Nearly
Give me a partly quiet day, starting slightly later but just in time to spare a coworker unnecessary travel and travail, followed by a late autumn sun yielding to a nearly full moon, a visit to see some expected and unexpected folk in old stomping grounds, and the promise of more time just ahead.
Released
I stayed at home long enough to come up with a fortieth song for the three albums I’d planned to release early Monday. But I messed up and released one album about an hour ago. I’ll put the other two up tomorrow evening, and figure out how best to mark these latest approaches to music domination.