Get More Ringtones!
This was going to be a comment response under the last post, but who reads those after the first time they post a comment anyway . . so here it is (responding to Joanne and then JustinVK):
I think the idea is that "captured" and "homeless" are more or less opposed to one another. (Right?) Maybe homelessness is really the path that everyone should be walking--speaking of "amazing people," a lot of them seem to lead pretty lonely existences (influential/brilliant philosophers, prophets, artists, etc.), and if everyone aspired to that, maybe we wouldn't be as messed up as we are as a society. Maybe if we all had the guts to be lonely--in that existential way--we'd cease to be so. Then again, I'm not doing so well with it. And I don't want to tell happy people that they shouldn't be happy. On one hand I'm sick of systems of thought that put a salve on fear and uncertainty at the expense of integrity (intellectual? emotional?) and on the other hand I guess I'm complaining about the lack of certainty and stability when the salve isn't there.
Justin, I'm not sure what an amazing person is, I'm just making the generalization about amazing people when looking at the crazy lives of ones like Hemingway, Dostoyevsky (the two examples I use way too often), Van Gogh . . heck, what about someone like James Klaver? He was cool before cancer, but afterwards I feel he had some truly amazing qualities. I guess there are people who don't have to go through all kinds of stuff to come out the other end wiser and better. But I doubt I'm one of them, and I doubt most people are ones of themses.
***
I find connecting with people very difficult due mainly to my own limitations. The other day my car battery was dead and I was musing about how to get cables and another car to charge; none of my closeby friends were answering their phones. My new roommate Chris said I should just walk around the neighborhood and ask. I said that sounded awkward. He said just do it, it's easy. So I did. It took about 20 minutes, but I found an old Puerto Rican mechanic who lent me the cables and shortly thereafter another guy watering his lawn who jumped my car with me. The former reluctantly parted with the cables because he'd had a pair not returned before. But after I returned them and noticed that he was sort of partying with his family in honor of Puerto Rico week in the USA, he offered me a beer and I ended up talking with him and his buddy about Puerto Rico, PR day, and living in Logan Square for a while. In fact, I could have stayed all afternoon and drank beer and celebrated with them. Naturally, I had Stuff to do. But it was so wonderful to stand in this man's garage for a short while and talk while his middle-aged daughter drunkenly danced some PR dance and kids climbed on and off of laps and other people looked on. So easy and yet something I never, ever do. Except the other day.
posted by Adam @ 2:02 PM
2 Comments:
Adam, baby!
I feel weird throwing in that electrical beginning to my comment. The reason being, your blog is so deep and meaningful. But regardless, its who I am and how I talks. so how you doing? Chicago is could be a scary place for a small town dutch boy. But since that's not you, fogget aboutit. I am intrigued by your life, and jealous in a way. I married young, got into the corporate world and live for paychecks and weekends, poker nights and football season. Not that any of that is bad, or that I regret it. I just wonder sometimes what its like living "adamly". At this very moment I want to imagine what you are doing right now. Not as you are reading it but, what you are involved in at 9:37AM Mountain Time in Chicago, IL.
I imagine you have taken the day off work. You decided to sleep in, but not late this morning. Rolling out of bed only an hour ago. You pull some clothes off the chair in your room that hung there from days earlier. The jeans arent dirty and the shirt is clean, just never made it all the way to hanging them up. But, no matter, you have gotten dressed and do very little to prepare yourself for the day. You brush your teeth, wash your face. Take a long leak, and flush the toilet. You have to hold the handle down cause it wont flush automatically. Of course the seat is left up. Man rule #241 if you live with another guy, never put the seat down.
You skip eating anything and trot out the door. stretching your arms as you immediatly see the sun. Something about sunlight, makes you tired and awake at the same time. Stretching is a way of bringing synergy to both. You walk down the sidewalk, making short eye contact with the people you pass. You look into their eyes for a split second to try and figure out what it is they live for. Why there are heading the direction they are. These thoughts only last for a moment. But its almost a game for you. Keeping your mind sharp, but yet not being able to help trying to profile someone you don't know.
You walk a good distance to the park nearby, its not entirely secluded from the noise of the city but its still a solitary place you can collect your thoughts and decide your next move of the day. You walk to a nearby bench. There are others closer to you but you pick this one, because unlike the others, this one looks used. Lived on, possibly the home for some transient seeking a decent night of rest. While there is no one sleeping there now, you notice a brown paper bag underneath the bench. caught in the footing of the bench, crickling and folding to the breeze flowing past it. You sit in the middle of the bench. Not sure why the middle. Maybe because its the most even portion, maybe its because you dont want company, maybe because you are a middle child you sub-consciously pick the middle. Regardless you think to much on the issue and decide to end it all by sliding your back up against the armrest of the bench and kick your feet up. You are happy with your decision to relax a little. You take a deep breath and slowly let it out. A little peace is nice you decide and you close your eyes. You can hear the leaves in the trees rustling with the cool breeze. You can hear the pitter patter of people walking and running. Some with strollers some on their morning jog. The nearby traffic is serenading you with their ensamble of horns, worn and squeeky brakes, diesel engines reving and car stereos thumping. You relax and take it all in, letting your mind meld together all the thoughts of your walk from your the bed to the bench. As your calm and collected mind process the sounds you feel something land on your shoulder. Before you open your eyes to inspect, you vision a butterfly landing on your shoulder, it slowly drifted around your bench, fluttering its wings to compensate for the unpredictable breeze. You expect it to fly off right way as you move slightly in an attempt to see if your new friend might consider staying. As you slowly open your eyes you try and use your peripheral vision to spot the butterfly. You dont want to move much more and scare it off. You lay there straining your eyes to see the insect. No luck, you decide to stay still a little bit longer. You feel that you may be able to gain the trust of your friend by lying still and not interuppting this moment you share. It is also staying very still you think. The trust you feel has been gained and you decided to sit up, not looking at your shoulder for fear that moving your head could lead to the abandonment of your butterfly. You sit straight up. You can still feel a presence on your shoulder. Your curiousity has become unsettled however, and as you move your head slowly to the side you see a glimpse of white on your shoulder. A white butterfly you think to yourself. How interesting. You had invisioned maybe a grand monarch but, you are not let down. You move your head even more trying to catch a full glimpse without cause your friend to fly away. He doesnt move. Just then you hear running footsteps coming toward you. They sound little, you dart your head in the other direction and see a little girl in a red striped sun dress with bare feet. Her mom is running after her in a panic it seems so you direct your attention at the little girl. Her face seems surprised, as the little girl runs to you. "Mister, Mister, I sawed the bird" she says in almost a huffing, frantic tone. You smile and say "I'm sorry, what?"
"Mister, I sawed the bird...he dropped something on you"
Your eyes move quickly as the horror of this event seems to unravel in your mind. You turn your head to the place you thought your winged insect friend had landed. To your horror you see the white splat on your shoulder. You squint your eyes in disgust, as the mother swoops in on her daughter, giving you a quick glance and mouthing "Sorry" to you. The little girl recites the mantra to her mom, "Mommy, the birdy pooped on that man." "Mommy, the birdy pooped on that man."
Such is life. Shit happens.
I'm sure you did something else this day, but for my own amusement Adam, I imagine the above to be true. Im not psychic, just trying to entertain myself.
Take care bro!
Dave (yer cuzin)
Hi my darling ass-face! Sorry it's been so long. I'm glad to know you're alive and thinking deeply. Be brave, be adventurous, and be the wonderful person that is you.
Post a Comment
<< Home