26 Aug
RDU. 8AM. Irish coffee. Watching Trump get demolished on CNN by some diminutive journo from Univision. Totally fuzzy & spaced... Sitting @ an upscale-ish airport restau-bar next to an older lady on her 2nd bloody Mary. She gives no fucks. Man down the bar eating. Here we go. Sonder in full effect here. There were fucking birds in the terminal. Sparrows in the drinking fountain. They refused a picture. Now I'm doing this instead of novella writing...
This is your life. Your true life. The fuck away from everything...
Glorious Mysteries today. Always a good day to fly with those.
Carlos, the slight barkeep @ this oyster bar fucking enigma in RDU, just comes up & says, "You thinking too hard." Then he goes away & says comes back & says, "You know, in Spanish we have a saying 'If the problem has a solution why you worry @ it and,'" he pauses, "'If the problem has no solution why you worry @ it.'" & laughs. I concurred.
People in business suits. Who the fuck flies in this? What kind of world do I inhabit? Eating scrambled eggs in a business suit?...
Jesus. Woke somewhere over flyover country & have no idea how things happened thus... Paul Blart is on the inflight movie again. Nothing but clouds out the window. I had a package of pretzels to augment the cookies I ate earlier. Desperately need real food. May not make this trip intact.
Turbulence. A is crying. Very upset. I crossed myself & am strangely unworried @ any of it. We'll make it. I know we will. I feel badly for her but there's nothing to be done.
27 Aug
Made it back home after a day flight into A-town @ an angrily consumed & shitty cheeseburger from the "Runway Grill" in SeaTac that was minded by nary a person of whose ethnicity would indicate their actually eating such fare. Angry flight & drive home...
Woke this morning, not to the neighbors fighting for they were evicted during our trip, but to the sound of heavy rain & a peal of thunder. Water already in the streets last night. Chilly. Autumn. It's here. The summer's long gone during our absence & the boys are too...
...@ Vagabond's again & this weight of shit makes one feel like an impotently raging animal set up for slaughter. That look on the cow's face as they slit her throat & she realizes that shit just got real. Times like this make you realize how selfish you are. I'd trade every other swinging dick in this place just to have the boys staying w/ me. Every single one...
Was pissy all day but actually just needed to eat a real-ish meal. Soup & pasta & a hunk of bread from Vagabond's & that seemed to be the trick. Then we went to the ultrasound appt. where the tech was amused that I was so worried @ the actual health & normality of the fetus. No cleft lip, normal brain cavities, 4 chambered heart, 3 vesseled umbilical connecting to the liver, 2 kidneys, 1 stomach, 1 bladder, 10 toes & fingers, intact nasal bone.
I drove to work. The fireweed cotton is blowing. The temp is def. autumn & the wind is thrashing. I've traded sandals for boots & shorts for jeans. Winter's coming, no doubt.
It's a boy. I have 3 sons.
28 Aug
Frost on the railing @ work.
Summer's fucking over.
Done.
That's it. That's the trip. I'll end with a line I misremember from a Henry Rollins book where he's describing performing for an audience (I think it's a spoken word piece he's relating and not his punk frontman gig) and he says, "Now I'm shooting myself in the face!"
Summer's fucking over.
Done.
That's it. That's the trip. I'll end with a line I misremember from a Henry Rollins book where he's describing performing for an audience (I think it's a spoken word piece he's relating and not his punk frontman gig) and he says, "Now I'm shooting myself in the face!"
