The Case of the Vernal Equinox
“Walking all the day near tall towers where falcons build their nests..."
The Year of Hell. I never forget to dredge up that most bitter and pathetic chapter of my brief history. Each March 17, without fail, in fanfare of green and shamrocks, I am reminded of the harbinger of my own tragedy which transpired too few years ago. This year was different. Not the same harsh memories of all I’ve done wrong, this year I celebrated and found someone I’d been looking for. It both heartens and scares me.
I hadn’t really seen Dick or Liz in the two weeks when I first began angsting about not seeing them. It’s a trait of mine that manifests without fail when I get close to someone - once I’m habituated, I’m addicted. As soon as I’m accustomed to having someone in my life, their absence affects me - more often than not, in negative ways. And when it’s spiteful or cruel, as was the case with Marx and Kelly, or even benign passing-in-the-night sorts of ways, I get overly sensitive and hurt. And as is one of the truisms about Arthur Wenzel - my most wicked moments are the results not of anger or malice - but of pain, being wounded.
March 16, I got to see them again. I’d been trying to corner Liz for days, trying to get back in the tidepool, and managed to get her for dinner that Thursday night. She, Dick, and I went out to dinner at this secluded Meadville bistro, Peppercorn and Vine. The food was good - I’d almost forgotten how good food tastes. We talked, drank, ate, enjoyed the pleasure of one another’s company for the evening - letting the sky darken into night, the only reminder of time.
We stopped by CVS to pick up some stuff, get blood pressure tests, and I learned of Surge’s heir - Vault. Coke is trying to out do my Mt. Dew and they may be succeeding. It’s a caffeinated soda pop with an energy drink edge. I’m not switching sides to Coke, but definitely giving it another look. Back at the Death Star, mixing it with vodka came up with a decent cocktail. Similar in construction to a Vodka Dew, but the Vault ‘n’ Vodka had it’s moment.
I ran with Liz by Brooks so she could pick up her luggage for Spring Break. Once we were back at the Death Star, we waited for Silas to finish a game of online poker before heading with Chris for a night of bowling.
I did not do as well as I’d done the previous time out. I rolled more gutterballs than anything, my heart just wasn’t in it. The real trick of the evening was the claw machine. We were all playing it between turns, trying to win cheap little pieces of crap which cost maybe ten cents to make. I won a blue bear, didn’t think anything of it. The whole thing struck me as a masculine challenge - trials by which men can prove themselves to one another - I proved my manhood by winning a plush teddy bear in my least favorite color. Go me.
I’d mentioned it at dinner, having only gotten the message when going out the door, that I had to read Liz before Spring Break. I don’t know the game that well, but when I have to move, I don’t shake, just go. I read her cards at the bowling alley, despite being somewhat drunk, I was on the mark. But as my suspicion had been, it wasn’t really her I was supposed to be looking at. Of course, she’s the new Strength and was important, but the other guys had more to say.
“...living on your western shore, saw summer sunsets, asked for more...”
Back at the Death Star, I read Chris, Silas, and Dick. Dick’s was the most interesting. We spent almost three hours talking, even after the reading was over. We both had things we had to tell one another. I told him my back story, about Ravine, the Mock Wizard and the Sheriff, the Constellation, how my life changed in exile and has made me the twisted individual I am today. He told me about himself and his life. I didn’t realize it then, it occurred much later, that during the first hours of the Year of Hell anniversary, I was bonded with another person - initmately. For the first time, probably ever, I wasn’t alone. That night brought back memories of the grim penance I payed in 283 Walker Annex - and all that it made possible. You have to pay a price to find peace and I’m beginning to think my sentence is almost over.
I got a call from My Darling Girl the next day. She sensed me across the distance between us - knew I was in high spirits and decided to cash in. Her life has moved in a good direction as well, our paths again running parallel, not intersecting in a regrettable turn, but keeping us alongside in those ways in which it matters until we do meet again. I was in a great mood on that St. Patrick’s Day, despite my impending return to Carlisle and having few prospects of fellowship. But I felt for a time, it was apt to be somewhat distant. Something to do with the way the cards were dealt.
Spring Break ends today, a good nine days since that night. In that time, I’ve thought, worked, and shaped myself on the topic of significance and how it relates to the Year of Hell (Regina), the winter of my discontent (all the players, including the Constellation), and the present. It’s a winding road, paved with the gold of success, worn by the storms of my life - those born of my own tempestuousness and those which come as a matter of natural course - , and turning at the corners where the land requires a new direction. It’s a long chapter in the book which is my life - but I feel now it’s worth going through the algebra to explain exactly why I’ve come to the conclusions I have.
“...I stood by your Atlantic Sea and sang a song for Ireland.”
The Year of Hell. I never forget to dredge up that most bitter and pathetic chapter of my brief history. Each March 17, without fail, in fanfare of green and shamrocks, I am reminded of the harbinger of my own tragedy which transpired too few years ago. This year was different. Not the same harsh memories of all I’ve done wrong, this year I celebrated and found someone I’d been looking for. It both heartens and scares me.
I hadn’t really seen Dick or Liz in the two weeks when I first began angsting about not seeing them. It’s a trait of mine that manifests without fail when I get close to someone - once I’m habituated, I’m addicted. As soon as I’m accustomed to having someone in my life, their absence affects me - more often than not, in negative ways. And when it’s spiteful or cruel, as was the case with Marx and Kelly, or even benign passing-in-the-night sorts of ways, I get overly sensitive and hurt. And as is one of the truisms about Arthur Wenzel - my most wicked moments are the results not of anger or malice - but of pain, being wounded.
March 16, I got to see them again. I’d been trying to corner Liz for days, trying to get back in the tidepool, and managed to get her for dinner that Thursday night. She, Dick, and I went out to dinner at this secluded Meadville bistro, Peppercorn and Vine. The food was good - I’d almost forgotten how good food tastes. We talked, drank, ate, enjoyed the pleasure of one another’s company for the evening - letting the sky darken into night, the only reminder of time.
We stopped by CVS to pick up some stuff, get blood pressure tests, and I learned of Surge’s heir - Vault. Coke is trying to out do my Mt. Dew and they may be succeeding. It’s a caffeinated soda pop with an energy drink edge. I’m not switching sides to Coke, but definitely giving it another look. Back at the Death Star, mixing it with vodka came up with a decent cocktail. Similar in construction to a Vodka Dew, but the Vault ‘n’ Vodka had it’s moment.
I ran with Liz by Brooks so she could pick up her luggage for Spring Break. Once we were back at the Death Star, we waited for Silas to finish a game of online poker before heading with Chris for a night of bowling.
I did not do as well as I’d done the previous time out. I rolled more gutterballs than anything, my heart just wasn’t in it. The real trick of the evening was the claw machine. We were all playing it between turns, trying to win cheap little pieces of crap which cost maybe ten cents to make. I won a blue bear, didn’t think anything of it. The whole thing struck me as a masculine challenge - trials by which men can prove themselves to one another - I proved my manhood by winning a plush teddy bear in my least favorite color. Go me.
I’d mentioned it at dinner, having only gotten the message when going out the door, that I had to read Liz before Spring Break. I don’t know the game that well, but when I have to move, I don’t shake, just go. I read her cards at the bowling alley, despite being somewhat drunk, I was on the mark. But as my suspicion had been, it wasn’t really her I was supposed to be looking at. Of course, she’s the new Strength and was important, but the other guys had more to say.
“...living on your western shore, saw summer sunsets, asked for more...”
Back at the Death Star, I read Chris, Silas, and Dick. Dick’s was the most interesting. We spent almost three hours talking, even after the reading was over. We both had things we had to tell one another. I told him my back story, about Ravine, the Mock Wizard and the Sheriff, the Constellation, how my life changed in exile and has made me the twisted individual I am today. He told me about himself and his life. I didn’t realize it then, it occurred much later, that during the first hours of the Year of Hell anniversary, I was bonded with another person - initmately. For the first time, probably ever, I wasn’t alone. That night brought back memories of the grim penance I payed in 283 Walker Annex - and all that it made possible. You have to pay a price to find peace and I’m beginning to think my sentence is almost over.
I got a call from My Darling Girl the next day. She sensed me across the distance between us - knew I was in high spirits and decided to cash in. Her life has moved in a good direction as well, our paths again running parallel, not intersecting in a regrettable turn, but keeping us alongside in those ways in which it matters until we do meet again. I was in a great mood on that St. Patrick’s Day, despite my impending return to Carlisle and having few prospects of fellowship. But I felt for a time, it was apt to be somewhat distant. Something to do with the way the cards were dealt.
Spring Break ends today, a good nine days since that night. In that time, I’ve thought, worked, and shaped myself on the topic of significance and how it relates to the Year of Hell (Regina), the winter of my discontent (all the players, including the Constellation), and the present. It’s a winding road, paved with the gold of success, worn by the storms of my life - those born of my own tempestuousness and those which come as a matter of natural course - , and turning at the corners where the land requires a new direction. It’s a long chapter in the book which is my life - but I feel now it’s worth going through the algebra to explain exactly why I’ve come to the conclusions I have.
“...I stood by your Atlantic Sea and sang a song for Ireland.”