After the last post, it is as appropriate as it will ever be to share my friend Jimmy’s joke.
Q: Did you hear about the new corduroy pillows?
A: They’re making all the headlines.
On wednesday, i turned in my thesis and then turned back into a person. I had not realized how consumed I have become by that work over the past year. In the next couple, I would sometimes crack up, out of the blue. Sitting alone, I would laugh. I took time to listen. Bike, instead of drive. Talk. Eat. Exist. It felt so good. One night, a huge dog interrupted a peaceful moonlight bicycle commute home from town. He snarled and ran after me in the road. I huffed, puffed, escaped and then had a good laugh.
There is a coffee shop in town that a few of us jokingly call “the office,” because we study there so much. Mike, the guy you see in the photo below, draws amazing pictures with paint markers. I had never had the time to look at them before. My friend Tony Lo took this photo.
One day, I went to Willytown–Wilmington that is. I used to spend a lot of time there, when time was freer. Now, I only go about once a week to play with kids in the park. It felt strange knocking on once-familiar doors and asking for old friends.
“Shane, you ain’t been here in a minute! Where you been at?” the mother a friend said sadly.
My friend was out somewhere, she didn’t know. We talked a little while. I asked why she seemed so sad. With tears in her eyes, she asked for help. It was serious. A few short minutes later, I was struggling to pull the naked body of a large man from the bathroom floor to the bedroom. He had collapsed, and could not move. This is relatively normal for him these days. Being willing to put your hands in somebody’s big, sweaty armpits says “I love you, I care” stronger than any words. Life is unfair. I am understanding more and more all the time that I am on the sunny side of this imbalance.
Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Jeremy from Gable Music Ventures came across the poster for The Paper Janes’ CD release concert in a kiosk on Market Street. It has long been a dream to play at the Grand. I remember staring up at the ceiling as a child, feeling so small.