Be A Bear
Thursday. I know, I know, I go back and forth on this, but this morning the head was really pretty good, the day out there beyond the noggin seemed like a really nice sort of day (a bright morning sun, a nice crisp clip to the air, god in her heaven, Ms. Emmy in her bed) and I, whining I, in a pretty good mood. I'm sure this will all change pretty quick, but I could easily become accustomed to this condition, I could work with it, drag it out (if I could only figure out how to drag it out), get to know its family, get along with its father-mother-siblings.
You're considering marriage?
To this condition in a minute. Just show me where to apply for the license.
I don't think it works that way.
It does here in fantasy America.
I listened to the President's news conference this morning. The poor bastard is in complete denial. We're fucked in Iraq and none of the choices are good, but I hope somebody (some knowledgeable somebody) is working on whatever ugly options we might now have in extracting ourselves from this mess we've created. The Iraqis are going to sort it out through blood and battle. One or another group is going to win, one or another group is going to dominate or extricate themselves and form their own dominion. Maybe there will be multiple Iraqs created, maybe there won't. Maybe it will destabilize the region, maybe it won't, but I'm sure we have options in at least trying to shape and contain whatever might be coming. I just hope somebody in the administration is planning for these eventualities. Bush is in denial, but I hope he's not in denial to the point he's not exploring options. But then who knows? This entire chain of events has been mind bogglingly irrational.
Later. A walk downtown just to be walking, the head holding up, the attitude cautious. Then what the hell, later, a bus ride downtown, a train to Berkeley, then a bus to Telegraph Avenue for a chicken Caesar salad, sitting by a window watching a young woman standing with her t-shirt pulled up exposing her back as she waited for a street vendor's henna tattoo to dry (me oh my), the sidewalks crowded with the usual subjects, Telegraph Avenue itself filled with traffic - busy, busy - the sun sharp, the air crisp except in the sun where it was warmer than a young man might prefer. I haven't been up for a trip to Telegraph Avenue for at least two, maybe more years, a trip once made often with a camera. Yes, I've been there recently, briefly, but this is the first time I've journeyed feeling like a human being. If you don't mind I'll be quiet now. I've obviously jinxed it my mentioning it and tomorrow will be a bear.
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