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Missed Firefly Opportunity
Jul. 31st, 2020 08:46 amLabyrinthine dream, which I really can’t remember too well, but RTT was in it, and he wanted to transfer to a different school, one that all his Black friends went to. Unclear to me whether I was his mother or his contemporary. I thought transferring schools was an exceedingly bad idea, but I felt powerless. We were staying in a very weird hotel.
Then I was walking down a street in Brooklyn, that block on 4th Avenue in Sunset Park that the 53rd street subway station empties onto. The first thing you see in real life when you emerge from the underworld onto the street is a funeral parlor. Only in the dream, the first thing I saw was an elementary school, bright pink and somehow… chubby, like a piece of Bazooka chewing gum.
###
I woke up and thought, You’re afraid he’s going to try and commit suicide.
RTT is not returning my calls or Ichabod’s calls.
But he has housemates whom he’s tight with. The Ithaca posse is there for him. One friend in particular. I’ve always vibed that this particular friend is in love with RTT. Surely, he isn’t letting RTT out of his sight.
###
Yesterday was my day to be the Garden Representative at the food pantry.
The line was even longer than it was last month.
Last week, 30 million Americans didn’t get enough to eat.
I went into my usual fugue state as I gave the vegetables away, looking infinitely bored as I avoided all eye contact: Not to worry! You have no history with me. When we two meet again, it will be as if for the first time.
Even the Swiss chard got picked up!
People must be really hungry ‘cause the Swiss chard always gets left over.
###
Playing Lady Bountiful put a serious damper on my mood. I am lucky, I think: The reduction in my material circumstances came about 10 years ago; I adapted to it, and now I’m doing just fi-i-i-ine since my needs are few and my expectations nonexistent.
I suppose it’s possible if things in this country really start going south—which is to say, if Trump somehow manages to finagle a second term—my material circumstances could be jeopardized.
But I don’t think that’s gonna to happen.
###
I generated revenue: Some client wanted a 3,000-word piece on investment opportunities in the UK!
Why anyone would think I know anything about investment opportunities in the UK is beyond me, but what-evah! The piece came out okay.
Then I worked on my latest Provocation, which is quite short and suffers from shaky camera work. Unfortunately, I cannot reshoot the clips because the sky would be too different.
Also, I can’t seem to figure out how to get the last note in the score to linger after the image on the screen fades to black.
Really, what I want to do is a kind of meditation on a visit to the Vanderbilt rose garden, no longer in bloom since it’s practically August. In California, roses bloom all year round. Not here.
I am learning, though, so it’s fun!
###
Dusk now is falling at 8 o’clock or so. And firefly season is over.
I kept planning to spend one night sitting outside watching the fireflies, and I never did, and somehow that missed opportunity haunts me even though there is always next year.
Then I was walking down a street in Brooklyn, that block on 4th Avenue in Sunset Park that the 53rd street subway station empties onto. The first thing you see in real life when you emerge from the underworld onto the street is a funeral parlor. Only in the dream, the first thing I saw was an elementary school, bright pink and somehow… chubby, like a piece of Bazooka chewing gum.
###
I woke up and thought, You’re afraid he’s going to try and commit suicide.
RTT is not returning my calls or Ichabod’s calls.
But he has housemates whom he’s tight with. The Ithaca posse is there for him. One friend in particular. I’ve always vibed that this particular friend is in love with RTT. Surely, he isn’t letting RTT out of his sight.
###
Yesterday was my day to be the Garden Representative at the food pantry.
The line was even longer than it was last month.
Last week, 30 million Americans didn’t get enough to eat.
I went into my usual fugue state as I gave the vegetables away, looking infinitely bored as I avoided all eye contact: Not to worry! You have no history with me. When we two meet again, it will be as if for the first time.
Even the Swiss chard got picked up!
People must be really hungry ‘cause the Swiss chard always gets left over.
###
Playing Lady Bountiful put a serious damper on my mood. I am lucky, I think: The reduction in my material circumstances came about 10 years ago; I adapted to it, and now I’m doing just fi-i-i-ine since my needs are few and my expectations nonexistent.
I suppose it’s possible if things in this country really start going south—which is to say, if Trump somehow manages to finagle a second term—my material circumstances could be jeopardized.
But I don’t think that’s gonna to happen.
###
I generated revenue: Some client wanted a 3,000-word piece on investment opportunities in the UK!
Why anyone would think I know anything about investment opportunities in the UK is beyond me, but what-evah! The piece came out okay.
Then I worked on my latest Provocation, which is quite short and suffers from shaky camera work. Unfortunately, I cannot reshoot the clips because the sky would be too different.
Also, I can’t seem to figure out how to get the last note in the score to linger after the image on the screen fades to black.
Really, what I want to do is a kind of meditation on a visit to the Vanderbilt rose garden, no longer in bloom since it’s practically August. In California, roses bloom all year round. Not here.
I am learning, though, so it’s fun!
###
Dusk now is falling at 8 o’clock or so. And firefly season is over.
I kept planning to spend one night sitting outside watching the fireflies, and I never did, and somehow that missed opportunity haunts me even though there is always next year.
