lost finding
Gosh it’s so fucking cold out.
Fucking piece of trash Maryland.
I sit here by the machine- hmm.
Maybe the fact that I have a hole big enough to fit my dick in right in the window besides me is having something to do with it.
Maybe I should patch that up and see where it goes.
My management company blows.
We have the heat up during the day when I’m at work- and then I get home and it’s turned off through the night.
I wake up with my ass numb..
Wrap my comforter around me and go start up water for my perfect coffee.
It’s fucking medieval.
And I don’t know what has happened to me in old age- Because now- I just think all of it is so funny.
None of it bothers me.
I wonder if there’s something wrong with me.
I go to other people’s houses and their walls are nice and bare.
White. With the occassional flower calendar- wall clock..
And then it hits me.. My place is insane. I have art hanging on every corner of every wall. It’s all ugly shit– Done well- but.. ugly. It’s full of depressing things and covered in a blanket of sad angry inspiring words.
I have printouts of Ayn Rand, David Bowie, John Steinbeck, MLK.. Just printouts.. taped in between paintings. They inspire me- keep me company when I feel alone.
But.. really. It’s kinda nuts.. In some beautiful way.
Life has just become .. Funny. In all its horror.
Last night I had a cold night..
I went to see a friend and get some goods. I left.. I was stoned out of my mind.
It was cold and wet raining all over.. And I had my music blasting in my ears- so I couldn’t hear any cars.
I picked inside my pockets- and found a map I had printed out of how to get back to where I came from.
The was no light to see what the heck street I was in. Dark.. wet.. cold.. I was lost completely.
I became more aware of what neighborhood I was in- I didn’t fit. I was dressed in black slacks- shiny black shoes- black shirt. A very conservative black business coat- and my head is shaved a little liberal. I must have looked like a poser fuck. What random people I saw around were .. well..
So- I’m lost. Completely.. scrounging over this map. The ink of the google map printout is wet and starting to run off the paper.
And then there’s this big bright moving light- and I’m standing in the middle of the street infront of what I loop up to and identify- as the bus I’m supposed to be looking for.
So I bang on the windows, amazingly the door opens up. And I get in with the stupidest grin on my face.
I should have been kicked off the bus right then and there.
I sat right accross from the bus driver. Looked him square in the face and asked him-
‘Are you going to Silver Spring? How many stops is it until there?’
He rolled his eyes and let out a sigh – saying,
‘Quaga agagg4..’
I couldn’t understand what he was saying- so I resolved to pull out one of my earbuds and I asked him again.. He said,
‘Quite a few.. quite a few..’
With the tone of a man who’s done this drive many many times- and to him, two stops are an eternity.
At this point I’m looking out of the windows, wondering why they don’t have some heating inside this sardine can.. And wondering.. Did I really take the right bus?
I began to realize that I had no fucking idea where I was or where I was going. So I turned the volume up. And hoped that I had enough juice in my little trinket to get me through the night. I can be cold- I can be lost- But I got smokes. And I got noise.
Caught the next bus.. I had to run to get it.. Which I’m completely against. I will never for as long as I live run accross a street- or to an elevator- I’m a fucking cunt like that. I don’t know why. I think nothing less of people running to keep from getting hit by cars. But I rather get hit than lose my ped pride.
To the death. Most certainly.
I felst lost the entire way. I didn’t know I was going to get home until I saw my house from the street.
It was such a wonderful cold wet lonely night. I hadn’t had so much fun in a long time.
I feel so useless now that I no longer have my Sas to take care of. My end all be all, my love.
I heard this thing on npr. It was about this very successful chef- his name was Keller or something like that.
He had opened up a super special restaurant that was different from the others he had opened before.
This special restaurant- was his own home.
And if you paid to eat there- you were not offered a menu. You were served what was being made for dinner. Like a home.
Keller talked about the time he had last cooked dinner for his father.
He realized later on- that he had cooked his father’s last meal. Because he died the next day.
And how he appreciated having been able to do that.
Because food- a meal- cooking- is most of all- first of all- about sharing.
About nurture- about caring for those you love.
And I realized- how much I miss my love. Because I always cooked for her. Always- And I loved it so- And I don’t know that I realized why at the time.
And I think now- It’s because there must be the mother in me- the part of me that is strong and wants to care for the people I love- and I think- the cooking- that was something so primal- so down to the root of what it is to care for your loved ones.
I was so struck by that- and so sad. Cried some- boys don’t do that. Missing the act of caring.
It’s good to know yourself. Even if what you find is weakness.
