I did the old "where was I today" game with the journal, and here are the results:
5 years ago: Painting houses in Cambridge while living with parents. My father gives me the Iroquois Thanksgiving Address. Thank you earth, sun, stars, water, trees, plants, moon, animals, wind, thunder, and enlightened teachers.
4 years ago: Couch surfing during my first ever visit to New Orleans, en route to San Francisco for the first time as well. I stay with a construction manager. I recall sitting in rocking chairs on his porch, sipping bourbon and smoking cigars while talking about teaching in Japan someday.
3 years ago: Teaching in Japan. Apparently I had a very long day with many classes, but it was very rewarding. Then again, it was stressful to teach for so long and then arrive at the conversation club where I conversed and lived, because if classes were running you couldn't use the kitchen or the main room, and they ran until 9 pm. We had our own rooms, but not really our own apartment, so to speak.
2 years ago: Having a rare day off amidst the intensity of harvest, so I decided to drive to San Francisco. This was my first visit to the city since I'd arrived in the area six weeks earlier and unexpectedly begun working wine harvest in Sonoma County, north of the city. I explored the city with my car, had a great time driving through the hills and along the ocean cliffs which reminded me of similar drives in New Zealand, and then came home to discover something very strange. I saw that somebody or something had taken it upon itself to relieve my tent of its duties, that is, by smashing the portable home which had served me so well on two east-to-west journeys through America. Thank you, tent. Although I still have you somewhere, I miss you. Luckily, on that particular evening I had planned to sleep on the ground beneath the stars anyway, but the ensuing confusion surrounding the circumstances of the tent's unexpected early retirement made it clear to me that it was time to leave harvest and move indoors. I already had a six day house sitting gig in Oakland lined up, and it became apparent that the Bay Area journey was bound to begin very soon.
1 year ago: Staying inside my friend's apartment in Astoria, Queens, pretty much all day, except for a few walks to do laundry. I was nursing the after effects of massive amounts of fun at a Halloween party in Park Slope, Brooklyn, the previous night. I did this by watching my friend's giant television from the couch where I routinely slept and wrote and ate dinner and talked to my friend and watched television. There weren't many real windows, save for a few opening into the closed alleyway. Although it wasn't very sunny, I was just happy to be somewhere in New York City, and with my friend at that. After all, I'd just up and left Oakland one month before without knowing if I would get a job or not. I was only at it for about two weeks at this point, and wasn't sure how long I would work for that company, live on the couch, or even make it in the city my second time around.
Today: Taking time enjoying the sunshine from inside my apartment. After some food I ventured into the windy cold and blue skies, and found a new path along the river. That is to say, I found a path I'd walked down before, but decided to walk much further down to see where it would take me, which turned out to be a lot of water, trees, sunshine and cars on the highway. Then I returned to my place, which, I must say, although humble, has a style that makes me feel at home. I have a comfortable chair, a ramshackle but useful desk, a classy green and gold-looking banking lamp, some photos, some inspiring words, some books and teas stacked on shelves, and access to the bare necessities. I also have a window which opens up into the world and gives me a view of the sky. I feel the energy of the city even when I'm typing here at this desk. Cars and people are moving by the corner of my eye. I'm happy I didn't fall off the ladder, or get picked up by any crazy drivers or lawmen while hitchhiking in the south, or rattled in any aftershocks, or happen to be in the tent when it met its historic end, or decide to walk away from the job in the Bronx and the couch in Queens simply because it was uncomfortable and challenging.
As for the World Series that culminated with the epic domination by Madison "Mad Bum" Bumgarner of the San Francisco Giants over the Kansas City Royals, I have this to say: I respect both teams, and have rooted for both of them at times in my life, especially when I was younger. I chose the Giants as my backup team behind the Mets because they used to be from New York, and they had had Willie Mays. I liked the Royals because my aunt lived in Kansas City and sent us some of their memorabilia sometimes. As for the meaning of the result of a contest between two groups of men throwing balls and swinging wooden sticks at them and then trying to catch them and throw them to each other and touch each other with gloves, I think the best poetry is that the contest between the two cities was really a matter of style and values. One team is from the Heartland, away from the water, conservative, set on one religious philosophy, and has very even flat terrain. They love life though, and they fight hard for what they believe in, so they almost defeated the champions. These champions come from a hilly city known for peace, love, innovation and creativity, with water from the bay and the Pacific Ocean in the immediate vicinity. Congratulations to all of the champions in the Bay Area this evening.
Of course, all of this is important whether or not you hit the stick with the ball or kick it with your foot or throw it or bounce it and feel it beneath your feet while one reflects and the other shines the light of our lives as this play thrives.
5 years ago: Painting houses in Cambridge while living with parents. My father gives me the Iroquois Thanksgiving Address. Thank you earth, sun, stars, water, trees, plants, moon, animals, wind, thunder, and enlightened teachers.
4 years ago: Couch surfing during my first ever visit to New Orleans, en route to San Francisco for the first time as well. I stay with a construction manager. I recall sitting in rocking chairs on his porch, sipping bourbon and smoking cigars while talking about teaching in Japan someday.
3 years ago: Teaching in Japan. Apparently I had a very long day with many classes, but it was very rewarding. Then again, it was stressful to teach for so long and then arrive at the conversation club where I conversed and lived, because if classes were running you couldn't use the kitchen or the main room, and they ran until 9 pm. We had our own rooms, but not really our own apartment, so to speak.
2 years ago: Having a rare day off amidst the intensity of harvest, so I decided to drive to San Francisco. This was my first visit to the city since I'd arrived in the area six weeks earlier and unexpectedly begun working wine harvest in Sonoma County, north of the city. I explored the city with my car, had a great time driving through the hills and along the ocean cliffs which reminded me of similar drives in New Zealand, and then came home to discover something very strange. I saw that somebody or something had taken it upon itself to relieve my tent of its duties, that is, by smashing the portable home which had served me so well on two east-to-west journeys through America. Thank you, tent. Although I still have you somewhere, I miss you. Luckily, on that particular evening I had planned to sleep on the ground beneath the stars anyway, but the ensuing confusion surrounding the circumstances of the tent's unexpected early retirement made it clear to me that it was time to leave harvest and move indoors. I already had a six day house sitting gig in Oakland lined up, and it became apparent that the Bay Area journey was bound to begin very soon.
1 year ago: Staying inside my friend's apartment in Astoria, Queens, pretty much all day, except for a few walks to do laundry. I was nursing the after effects of massive amounts of fun at a Halloween party in Park Slope, Brooklyn, the previous night. I did this by watching my friend's giant television from the couch where I routinely slept and wrote and ate dinner and talked to my friend and watched television. There weren't many real windows, save for a few opening into the closed alleyway. Although it wasn't very sunny, I was just happy to be somewhere in New York City, and with my friend at that. After all, I'd just up and left Oakland one month before without knowing if I would get a job or not. I was only at it for about two weeks at this point, and wasn't sure how long I would work for that company, live on the couch, or even make it in the city my second time around.
Today: Taking time enjoying the sunshine from inside my apartment. After some food I ventured into the windy cold and blue skies, and found a new path along the river. That is to say, I found a path I'd walked down before, but decided to walk much further down to see where it would take me, which turned out to be a lot of water, trees, sunshine and cars on the highway. Then I returned to my place, which, I must say, although humble, has a style that makes me feel at home. I have a comfortable chair, a ramshackle but useful desk, a classy green and gold-looking banking lamp, some photos, some inspiring words, some books and teas stacked on shelves, and access to the bare necessities. I also have a window which opens up into the world and gives me a view of the sky. I feel the energy of the city even when I'm typing here at this desk. Cars and people are moving by the corner of my eye. I'm happy I didn't fall off the ladder, or get picked up by any crazy drivers or lawmen while hitchhiking in the south, or rattled in any aftershocks, or happen to be in the tent when it met its historic end, or decide to walk away from the job in the Bronx and the couch in Queens simply because it was uncomfortable and challenging.
As for the World Series that culminated with the epic domination by Madison "Mad Bum" Bumgarner of the San Francisco Giants over the Kansas City Royals, I have this to say: I respect both teams, and have rooted for both of them at times in my life, especially when I was younger. I chose the Giants as my backup team behind the Mets because they used to be from New York, and they had had Willie Mays. I liked the Royals because my aunt lived in Kansas City and sent us some of their memorabilia sometimes. As for the meaning of the result of a contest between two groups of men throwing balls and swinging wooden sticks at them and then trying to catch them and throw them to each other and touch each other with gloves, I think the best poetry is that the contest between the two cities was really a matter of style and values. One team is from the Heartland, away from the water, conservative, set on one religious philosophy, and has very even flat terrain. They love life though, and they fight hard for what they believe in, so they almost defeated the champions. These champions come from a hilly city known for peace, love, innovation and creativity, with water from the bay and the Pacific Ocean in the immediate vicinity. Congratulations to all of the champions in the Bay Area this evening.
Of course, all of this is important whether or not you hit the stick with the ball or kick it with your foot or throw it or bounce it and feel it beneath your feet while one reflects and the other shines the light of our lives as this play thrives.
No comments:
Post a Comment