Illness is like stillness. I can't stand it. Ironically one induces the other. I mention it because I feel the grip of la grippe closing in on me... some devilish mix of what feels like Mono with a side of ass kick to the face. Being sick doesn't hit me well. I guess nobody goes gracefully into the arms of a disease, but it's just difficult for me because it always affects what I need most... my voice and my energy. I suppose however, this is just karmic retribution for their overuse all the healthy days of my life, so I can't say it isn't without its merits. Just timing-wise it sort of blows with a capital LOWS.
Chicago presented herself in all her frail bitter wonder today, as we managed to escape suburbia for the afternoon and jet on up to the city for a deep dish lunch and a mid-day stroll. I didn't trust the flashing bank signs that displayed the temperature as 52 degrees. Possibly because it felt much colder, but also maybe it had something to do with the fact that they had yet to adjust the clock to the new correct time.
Ellen and I met in the evening for a meal... well, she ate and I had a cookie and chocolate milk because I was more than full from the deep dish. We talked about the state of the inner city school she was working in... and her struggles with the various men coming in and out of her life. Ellen doesn't realize it, but if she were a writer, her memoir would be a great read. She has a great way of telling a story about anything and making it seem like something out of a novel.
On the train back I kept falling asleep between stations and death cab for cutie songs, not knowing the route exactly, one ear was always waiting for the announcement of my stop. Two giant fat girls were making fun of themselves in the nearby seats and they were glad I chuckled when I overheard them discussing their fear of disembarking from the train, having to jump onto the platform and quite possibly falling face first on the pavement. I don't mind big fat people who don't mind being big and fat. It's kind of refreshing in a strange way. Like handicapped people who don't live their lives as a constant reminder to everyone that they're handicapped.
I miss Kat. I can tell she misses me more than she wants to say. I think we level each other out when we're around one another. Things never get too stressful or harsh. It's like I'm the saucer to her teacup. She knows that she can always spill over onto me and it'll cool things off right away. I love her. My lovely teacup. And to me... she's like the green thumb to my bonsai tree. She takes my complex miniature chaos and keeps it from overwhelming the bounds of grounded, potted life. Thanks baby, for your zen. And for watering me daily.
That's all for now.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment