Ili has gone to the beach to visit her family. We spent the day with them yesterday at Santa's Tree Farm. There were her parents, four sisters, two husbands, and two nephews. And me. I went as the support team. Her parents were going to cut down a tree for Christmas. As far as you could see, there were trees in the field trimmed to the traditional Christmas tree shape. Of course, you didn't have to cut your own tree. There were plenty of beauties already cut. The place was big and was a combination tree farm, petting zoo, and flea market with zip lines and plenty of other thrills for the kids. This was opening day. It was crowded.
While everyone fed the goats and pigs and sheep and donkeys who pretended to love them, I kept my hands in my pockets. I don't need to pet a chicken. I was happy just watching the show. Well. . . happy-ish. Nobody seemed to be too joyful. This place was way out in a rural county, and everyone there looked to be related. There was a definite mindset. Fortunately, I wasn't wearing my Obama T-shirt. I knew these people. They were southern versions of my relatives. Don't take that as a put-down. I just know where they are coming from.
But like I said, no one was smiling. It was that sort of grim fun people have when they are doing what they are supposed to do. To do otherwise would be wrong. Like I said, it wasn't joyful.
Afterwards, Ili wanted to go to Gritville to have pizza with her sisters and kids. Fine with me. It was her day, I said.
And that was dinner. I feel like a pizza boy today. I've been to the gym and I've lain in the sun, and now I'm eating left over turkey and dressing and drinking a beer hoping I won't have salmonella tonight.
It is noon, and I have the rest of the day to myself. I have the cameras ready, but it is difficult, this catch-as-catch-can approach. I didn't take any photos yesterday, but I swore to go back to that rural countryside and do so. I even thought about doing it today, but I know how that goes. You never see the things you saw the day before. They shrivel up like mushrooms. I will wait to make that trip again so that I am not looking through expecting eyes.
But what, then? I don't know. I truly don't. After this lunch and beer, I am thinking I would like a nap. but the day is gorgeous, the light brilliant, the brights like diamonds, the shadows deep. Perhaps it is too much for me. Perhaps I am just afraid to fail.
Maybe so. But the nap sounds too appealing. An hour, that is all. Then I'll get up and find my way.
Look at me, all lost and shit. WTF? WTF?
ReplyDeleteThere must be a good dozen "lost quotes." Let's see...
Oh. The Poet liked Carver.
“I've crossed some kind of invisible line. I feel as if I've come to a place I never thought I'd have to come to. And I don't know how I got here. It's a strange place. It's a place where a little harmless dreaming and then some sleepy, early-morning talk has led me into considerations of death and annihilation.”
― Raymond Carver, Where I'm Calling From: New and Selected Stories
yup. the light and the dark. joy and pain. that sublime thing.
I already feel fat. I am going to do a cleanse these next two weeks. I kicked sugar - I'm not sure I told you but might have cause I can't remember shit like that anymore. Which reminds me - I should do some crossword puzzles and that other thing SUDUKU ? My Dad loved to do the JUMBLE. When newspapers lasted all day. til the next day if you got a daily one. We did. The Daily Record. I loved reading it from the time I was a little kid. Cover to cover - even the Classifieds. It wasn't an overwhelming thing - during the week probably two sections. Fat Sundays and Fridays got big with the "Things to Do This Weekend" Section.
Whew. I just smoked a joint. Sorry for the run ons.
Anyway. Some cleansing between Now and Then.
The Hols.