Juxtapositioning

words are foreplay for the soul
November 9th, 2008

Resurfacing

Yes, I’ve been busy.

I’ve been doing this. And I’ve been doing this. And also I’ve been spending hours a day writing for the upcoming supersecret website I can’t tell you about yet. Except that it’s related to this one.

Also, I haven’t been at home for awhile. Matthew and I have been traveling. Yay for traveling. *Cough*. I went to a spiritual workshop thing, where I manned the recording device. Like they really needed someone to do that (push “record,” push “stop” at the appropriate times—really difficult and oh so technical), but I was grateful to be there and I am sure I got something out of it. Not sure what yet, but this is a processing month anyway.

We stayed with my brother. They live up on top of a hill (called a “mountain” in California) at the end of a steep and twisty driveway at the end of a steep and twisty road. The view was wonderful. We were all set to watch election returns, had the beer, had the pretzels, but the power went out that day because of the three inches of rain that had fallen the day before and they had to fire up the generator. No lie. And this generator powers their internet substation or whatever it’s called that lets them do computer stuff from home and run approximately 37 laptops and other computer stuff, except all that internet stuff had to be turned off to make the TV run. Also the lights. It was lights or Obama and we all voted Obama. So there we all were with our one beer apiece watching the votes roll in when the real electricity came on and we switched over from the generator except hello, that made Tivo REALLY mad and Tivo wouldn’t work and there was no TV but it looks like Obama won anyway? Even though we weren’t watching? And I got to see the acceptance thing, or hear it anyway, on YouTube and I woke up the next morning and THE SUN WAS SHINING IT’S A SIGN.

And we also stayed with Matthew’s mom in Oregon. I can’t comment on that except to say WE ARE LEAVING TOMORROW HALLELUJAH. And then we go to Portland because I like Portland and I suspect we may live there someday at least in a parallel life or something and wouldn’t it be nice to pick out our house now?

And then it’s across the border again and yes, we are declaring our alcohol, and home again. At which time I can catch up with all the things I could not do when we were away.

September 25th, 2008

100 x365 #4: The Hitchhiker Guy

Was it your tattered cardboard sign, your worn guitar, or your dirty backpack? People at that Nebraska interstate rest stop were ignoring you.  You came holding your Cup O’ Ramen, about to sit down and enjoy lunch.  I saw dreadlocks, patched dirty jeans, and tired sweat.  Then I saw your eyes, startlingly blue, and your face, young and hopeful and accepting.  We talked.  Your favorite place, you said, had been New Orleans. Boulder or Alaska?  Didn’t matter which, you said.  I was headed to Boulder but couldn’t imagine your stuff touching mine in my car so I walked on, haunted.