Michigan Monday
Ooh I don't feel good. Serious stomach ache. Why? Because I ate nothing but SHIT all weekend. I'm so disgusted with myself. I feel the need to detox, to clean my system out, and I'm craving celery sticks and cranberry juice. Naturally I don't have either. I'm thinking of splurging this evening and buying ingredients to make chicken rice soup. Must call my mother for the recipe.
Watched "Stranger Than Fiction" on Saturday and was happy to discover that it was not a complete waste of my time. The movie hit on a point that's been bouncing around in my head for a while: the thought of every day. It's tough to explain, but I've been searching for a way to appropriately describe the importance we all put on the every, mundane day. That is what we strive for, that is what it is all about: just an every day. Once it becomes more clear to me, I'll write it down.
A group of six came into Red Robin on Saturday night, after the rush, and struck a chord with me. I wrote down a description of them on my order-taking note pad while hiding behind the bar. The group was: three young men, larger, two white, one black, like football players, trendy clothes, knit hats, popped collars, jewelry. Also, two women, one younger, one older (mom and daughter?), and a fourth man: large, silver hair, broad shoulders, tailored black suit and a massive gold cross on an obvious chain. Like something picked up on a pilgrimage in Spain. I was certain that he was ordained and had led a worship service earlier that evening and now he and his family were treating these three lost boys to dinner and The Way, The Truth and The Life. Something about this scene made me very sad very quickly. I think it was the expensive clothes paired with the religious symbol. How obvious do you have to be? Is that what you're teaching these young men? Are these young men even lost? Do they feel the pity you are spewing across the table? How charitable of you to buy three large hamburgers and three smoothie drinks while modestly sipping water and french onion soup. I kept circling the table, even though it wasn't mine, to catch bits of the conversations and to look again at their outfits and auras. I caught things like "forgiving" and "I bet you've burned more bridges than I have." Something about this scene, something about this scene. I was glad when they left.
Sunday was terribly warm (55ºF!!!!) and sunny and what did I do? I slept on the couch. Again, I disgust myself. RR had better cut my nights down. I'm tired of work there, tired of working in general. I'm tired of feeling jealous of the people milling comfortably about after a shopping trip to Macy's and Express. This weekend D and I are going to go hunting for a typewriter. I'm on a mission. It's supposed to snow again. Spring is only three months away.
How are you?
Watched "Stranger Than Fiction" on Saturday and was happy to discover that it was not a complete waste of my time. The movie hit on a point that's been bouncing around in my head for a while: the thought of every day. It's tough to explain, but I've been searching for a way to appropriately describe the importance we all put on the every, mundane day. That is what we strive for, that is what it is all about: just an every day. Once it becomes more clear to me, I'll write it down.
A group of six came into Red Robin on Saturday night, after the rush, and struck a chord with me. I wrote down a description of them on my order-taking note pad while hiding behind the bar. The group was: three young men, larger, two white, one black, like football players, trendy clothes, knit hats, popped collars, jewelry. Also, two women, one younger, one older (mom and daughter?), and a fourth man: large, silver hair, broad shoulders, tailored black suit and a massive gold cross on an obvious chain. Like something picked up on a pilgrimage in Spain. I was certain that he was ordained and had led a worship service earlier that evening and now he and his family were treating these three lost boys to dinner and The Way, The Truth and The Life. Something about this scene made me very sad very quickly. I think it was the expensive clothes paired with the religious symbol. How obvious do you have to be? Is that what you're teaching these young men? Are these young men even lost? Do they feel the pity you are spewing across the table? How charitable of you to buy three large hamburgers and three smoothie drinks while modestly sipping water and french onion soup. I kept circling the table, even though it wasn't mine, to catch bits of the conversations and to look again at their outfits and auras. I caught things like "forgiving" and "I bet you've burned more bridges than I have." Something about this scene, something about this scene. I was glad when they left.
Sunday was terribly warm (55ºF!!!!) and sunny and what did I do? I slept on the couch. Again, I disgust myself. RR had better cut my nights down. I'm tired of work there, tired of working in general. I'm tired of feeling jealous of the people milling comfortably about after a shopping trip to Macy's and Express. This weekend D and I are going to go hunting for a typewriter. I'm on a mission. It's supposed to snow again. Spring is only three months away.
How are you?