Sunday, August 9, 2009
It's not so bad, and that's really the best that I can hope for. Happiness only comes in short, lucid bursts. I move as life dictates. I react. I evade. Whatever kills the immediate discomfort is always the right answer. It might be a shortsighted mode of problem-solving, but long-term planning is not typically an option. When it is, I employ it, and work with what I have. I'm not proud. Right now, I'm enjoying one of those bursts of joy. It's relaxing. The window is down. I'm stuck in traffic and a cocktail of different types of exhaust are making love to my lungs. The fumes lick my head and face like a giant tongue and creep down my airways into my lungs. It's a wet, obscene orgy of toxic smells and mucus. The sun is on its way up. I'm stuck in traffic in a bad neighborhood, not fully awake yet, and in no hurry to get there. Neil Young is playing loudly. I've got roughly 15 minutes of commute and five of unpacking and preparation before I've got to "work." My sense of time has become so shortsighted and desperate that a 20 minute buffer of downtime feels pretty good. It's something that I'll try to enjoy and savor. The solitude is really what this moment is all about. Right now I've got early morning sun, the familiar scent of exhaust, and "Down By the River." Alone is priceless. It's worth more than everything which I endure to earn it. Solitude is a bargain at any price.