1/26/01 Even newer beginning

1/26/01
There is nothing in my brain that I want to pick at. No sore spot that would benefit by examination. No great thought that has not already been thought. I can be an observer and filter images until you read them.

Where am I? At the mall awaiting the 4 new tires which will be installed on my car. A man sees me typing on my foldaway keyboard and asks if this works. I show him how it folds up and is only a bit bigger than my visor PDA. I should have told him that it is not working that well because no story is being written. Simple random observations. I guess I am altering the universe around me... the Heisenberg uncertainty principal.... the guard walking by sees me typing and asks how I am doing. I have never seen anyone with a PDA typing at a mall. So I must be an oddity. I have always enjoyed the status of oddity. I see the viridian orange haired girl. I hear the old ladies proclaim: "What is the world coming to?" I think that the viridian haired girl is simply wearing a uniform. I can’t help but look at the beautiful women that pass. One just passed in a diaphanous long skirt. Many mothers pass. Some so connected to their children. They smile. These children seem lucky to me. Then there are the mothers who seem frazzled... no smiles on their faces. I think my mother was probably like that. Maybe these children are luckier. They become introspective. They develop inner resources. Maybe they tell themselves stories to escape their mother's wrath. Maybe they have imaginary friends. Two women sit at the table next to mine. I can't see them. I am distracted by their voices. I am straining to hear what they have to say. Finally I look. It is a mother and daughter

This morning I have renewed my car tags, took the Christmas candles out of the window, and am getting the new tires. I have to finish taking all the Christmas decorations down: the deer, the two wreaths, the pine roping with the star lights that arch above our front door, the angel at the top of the arch -- you can look up her skirt as you enter if you are so inclined --, the pine roping on the fence.

Time to check on the progress of the installation and to get a pretzel for lunch. -- Hey, it's a big pretzel-- good for twisted thinkers.

Cafe Appassionata

The Beginning

2/23/01
I was sick this morning. It is just enough cold to make me think I am going to have a bad day.

The sun comes out and melts the snow and the Advil removes the aches and pains.

I go on line and post an old story which reveals much about me--at least the first part of it.

I am now at borders. Not to browse for books but to get a triple espresso and look at the people. How many of these people are real writers?

There a girl with blue coat and no chin and wet, curly hair. Over there a Rastafarian haired guy. I don't want to give myself away by the way I look. My hair however is between the way my barber likes it to look ant the way I want it to look; hence it is raised up in front much too high. There a pony tail shakes far too much for my taste. A young girl bounces across my path. She is smiling at the Rastafarian guy. A 20 something with an M on the back of his shaven head sits with his back to me. A guy who has a military hair cut---light on the side... slightly darker on top has a book "Stonger Abs and Back." Can you imagine writing a book on that topic? Maybe there is hope for me yet. I seem to be studying everyone's hair. There is a young mother with a man cut. She has a cute face and glasses. A young boy passes and I study the way his barber has made a perfect half circle around his ears... A young girl with no make up and shiny shiny hair attracts my attention. Reminds me of someone from my past whose name I cannot at this moment recall. The cappuccino is starting to hype me up. I feel it as it seems to make me hear more than usual. I over hear two nursing students talking about the sounds of blood flowing through the body. The baby wants attention and begins to cry. The mother at first feeds some scraps from the cake she was eating. But now leaves to take care of her cranky baby. I notice the chairs for the first time. The sun strikes them and they strike me. I think of a Paris cafe. I am nearly done with my coffee. I am going to find "Chocolat" and begin reading it.