Back in the saddle

How easy to fall off creative writing, expressive writing, to settle for single sentence flashes, maybe 160-character text messages. I feel the gap in my life though, so blogging seems in order. My life still has not recovered from the end of my marriage, but I need it to, as soon as possible. I find some moments of happiness a few times every week, but the rest is dread and worry. H.P. Lovecraft passages keep slithering into my mind, about days in darkness, huge slimy stairs, gibbering demons, and cliffs to climb. There must be a way into my life that feels alright, but my vision has grown dim.

My children still shower me with good love, my family is kind to me, and most of my friends tolerate my pro-longed somberness, so I am grateful to them.

Vitrine at St. Regis

To celebrate a little engineer certification hurdle I recently cleared, my officemates took me to lunch at Vitrine, inside the St. Regis Hotel, next to the SFMOMA, posh deal. The art, the staff, the elevators, all pointed to awake relaxation, I liked the fire you see in the photo a lot. Carol and I got excited enough about the food that our cheeks flushed and we got all giddy, while Al, 40+ years my senior, got less worked up. Truly a delightful lunch that concluded with a butterscotch pot de creme that invoked my dear departed maternal grandmother's presence in such a precious way that lucky stars a million light years out felt my loving gratitude raise their core temperatures ~1,000 C.

After lunch we strolled out onto 3rd Street, and at the corner of Mission & 3rd, just after the light changed I caught a fat raindrop on my tongue just as I had opened my mouth hoping to catch one. I grinned wide, feeling like Mama Natural had just dosed me, let me connect with all my faraway friends, my near friends, and the real deal electric tangerine fun-loving me. Got to get me back in my groove, and this kind of stuff points the way, as did Schoggi Chocolates, which we hit hard before cruising back to lofty office.

First Swim of 2007

Oakland's Lake Temescal welcomed me in, took me by both hands then held me like a long lost lover greeting her shell-shocked soldier fresh back from a life of carnage. Nature worked her charms with calculated synchronicity, extracting synergistic power surges that shade the memory with mists of plum & gold. The air temperature worked with the manzanitas, the collegiate couples with the tatooed gangster families, the sand with the grass, trees and sky forming a blurred periphery from my floating flat on my back in the middle of the lake vantage. Less than 15 minutes in the water and I staggered out, weaving to and from until I fell on my towel in the sand, did some stretching, counted some lucky stars, beat it on down the line home. Must build stamina, swim all night every night, transform or die, turn my head to breathe as I sleep, transform as many others as will join me. Swim, just swim until you can't.

The heat had the family falling out all over the rear deck when I got home, added a real special happy vibe. Counted more lucky stars. Great night at home, replete with emotional depth and spiritual wonder. Pondered rough estimate of lucky stars, based on luminosity of gratitude.

The Best Kind of Tears

The kids and I had scurried around the house unobstructed by the woman of the house for almost two hours when Gumbo stopped me in the hall "I have something for you." He handed me a brown paper bag. "It's a raincoat. It's for you, from me." Sure enough, a nice yellow raincoat lay on the bottom of the bag, my size and everything. He took by surprise with that oh sooo smooth gift giving ritual. Some people work on it their whole lives and never learn to give a gift that well. I cried big macho tears, laughed, hugged the boy, and tried it on so we could have an indoor singin' in the rain session. The part that he got so well was waiting until his mother had been gone for so long, banishing the spectre of Mom contrived cuteness. Turned out that it was supposed to be a birthday present for me, and he had let the coat out of the bag ahead of schedule. Bless that wonderful boy. The other day he asked, "Can we go to see Santa Claus? At Burning Man?" And one recent evening, shortly after my return home from work he chimed "Dad?"

"Yes Gumbo."

"I like you." The kid charms like climbing a rope of sand I ain't kiddin'.

The daughter doesn't do so bad herself. Last night she chilled in my lap for a good several minutes while I chatted with my mom, then, when Jerry came up on shuffle play strumming the first few notes of To Lay Me Down I started rocking side to side and singing along. As the emotion of the song started to carry me away I watched her eyes droop and close as she journeyed down the 700 dreamsteps. Once again gratitude started slapping me in the head like a giant cayenne coated sunfish, causing tears of joy to run screaming love down my face. I thought, wow, twice in one day, and recalled that the first time in my life that I cried tears of joy and gratitude was less than one year ago. I calculated the odds of twice in one day. A google to one, that's how the odds add up, so I carved another miracle notch in my psyche, and put that wee lady in her crib. I should be so lucky, soooooo lucky.