08/05/2021 0 By BuddyCushman

There’s a line from a Mose Alison song – “My mind is on vacation, but my mouth is working overtime.” It might be relevant, in shape-shifting evidence – to this post. It reminds me, a little, of another line which was once upon a time heard here and there amidst gatherings of the don’t-drink-one-day-at-a-time folks – “The monkey may be off my back, but the circus is till in town.”

I have no theory for you, or evidence, that either of these fun statements are entirely relevant to my internal weather here in Encinitas, California this late Thursday morning. My mind does not feel on vacation, it’s quite busy at work considering and planning, day-dreaming and scheming, wishing and hoping, I think mostly wondering. Now what? Now what happens? How long do I feel like this? When can I feel like that? How badly do I feel like I need something to spend the money it takes to get it? And why do I forget the astounding generosity of friends and acquaintances and that I’m flush, sort of, and have enough today? Never mind, in fact, I’m still here, the fact I was capable of opening my eyes and sliding out of my bed this morning – one more time – not only the biggest blessing going. It’s mind-blowing. It’s remarkable, a mystical gift I continue to get to chase the joy in the journey. However it looks.

I began taking bids again today for moving my stuff from Joyce’s garage in Portland to my room down here – talk about the circus in town – and I also actually received a text from my ex-wife a while ago, that fact making me so happy in the ongoing silence of not knowing how she is, the content of which making me sad because I get reminded how it is. There’s just so much – like they say in Al-Anon – the bitter with the better. And what my main man from way back when – Frenchy the longshoreman from Charlestown – was always saying – “I don’t know nothing about nothing.”

Lots of quotes, lots of swirling thoughts, I had the chance to meet in person earlier two people I have come to like a lot through the electric magic of Zoom, and in 15 minutes I’m heading out into the hinterlands where I’ve never been to have a coffee at the home of another. None of whom live in Encinitas, so none to hang out with here, where I live now, me contributing to the circus in this town. At 7 tonight I’m signed up for a Meet Up “writer’s workshop” – a different attempt to meet people – which is yet another Zoom thing and there’s only two people going beside me and I did write a cool story with the prompt which was sent out, and, yeah, I have pretty much decided to spend some of the money people gifted to me on things I do need.

“Sunday night arrives without a suitcase.” Isn’t that a line from a Beatles song? It’s another line and feels as relevant as any of the others.