Here and Now

There are many tools for meditation. While I'm not particularly religious, I see the value in finding the means to shut out considerations of the past and future. Lately, I've been getting myself into the moment by contemplating this prospect:

It may not inspire thoughts of spiritual ecstasy, but the forced abstraction helps to empty my mind. Not to mention that I get results without springing for a weekend at a Zen retreat.

Lapidary

I do not want to be what you remember. I only want to remember what we forget.

Inseparable

Harold and Maude?

Nostalgia Is Consumptive and I'm Coughing Up Blood

If I had the powers of mind to sit in the dark with headphones on, I would listen to Pornography on auto-repeat. Thanks for the suggestion, Kim. I'll always remember when I first went to your place in Vallejo and found the vinyl on your makeshift shelving. The original American edition of Boys Don't Cry may have been more impressive, but it wouldn't have meant much without the bookend of Pornography. As I recall, you played the latter when Keith came up for a visit, that night that culminated in your feet-moving-too-fast-to-touch-the-ground frenzy dancing to X. "The phone's off the hook, but you're not."

I almost felt the urge to walk up to Val's for a flask of trouble just now. I miss the way the fog blows over the streetlight at the corner of Georgia and Napa. I miss the refreshment of the bedroom window, propped up with a book we periodically have to dig out of the bushes below. I miss Tibbs. And I miss you, more than words can possibly show.