Winter can suck a dick.
Bold. I got a handmade post carte with that written in black ink all caps a few winters ago. Wise words from a swan. Today those words came into my head, the reminder of it matching a feeling on the inside while standing in blue under an orange light.
All day I wanted to weep. Considered it in the bathroom, but held it in. While sharing dinner this evening with Creme, I felt like my breath was off kilter, as if I had spent the entire day holding in air. I spent the day breathing and running and wrapping things in saran wrap. It is plain as day that this job is off. A feeling. Winter fell from the sky and blanketed the streets I have taken to in muck. The idea of riding home in that in that beautiful coat not fit for the spray made me sad too. Thank god Creme picked me up, tossed my bike into the box like it was nothing, Bob Dylan's age in the sound of his voice coming from the warm cab.
Those moments are my favorite of winter on a crap day. Sliding into a familiar space with a familiar creature of a hundred natures, easy to sigh and drop down, warm in my coat, safe and relaxed beside him. Legs working the clutch and pedals. Boots clomping noiselessly in Shoppers in search of cigarettes. We zipped around the north end and eventually came to my home to break bread.
Grateful as hell for that dude in my life.
Not sure what the heck I should do, what steps to take. Work it out, pound out the kifeshow as they say in the bush? Good pay, shit hours, hesitancy, longing, frustration and nonstop polishing. I would rather be the one in the whites "hiding in the kitchen". Kitchen jobs are important too, nothing to be ashamed of there. Someone's got to put the love in the stock.
Take a step back Madge, check out the goods/ good.
These are the good parts of my job:
- Jason's face, a dishwasher who calls me girl (in a good way)
- Julio's laughter, kitchen prep and all around rockstar
- Making eye contact with workers in whites while hustling through a production kitchen
- Classical music from the delivery van radio
I am afraid to take the steps to actualize my interests. Darkroom sits wanting, ready. I hesitate out of laziness, distraction and ??? Two question marks punctuated with a question mark. The moped in the darkroom (mon dieu) breathes life into me and I look forward to the first ride with that rascal beside me, eyes sparkling in the dark like shiny stones, the first recognition of an understanding of momentum in a world brand new. Fast perspective. Trips with cameras.
- snake pits
- more bowling
- less soup
Look forward to's:
- swimming at the pits
- road trip
- BLAST (whatever that is)
- breakdown and recovery
- Crystal and Donny's baby boy
- dry riding (cold + wet = ache)
- Friday the 13th exhibit at Le Taudis in April