Month: May 2013

Hit the Road | This American Life

Hit the Road | This American Life

Hit the Road | This American Life

I understand. It hadn’t been, I don’t know, the day before yesterday or something, I was in my 20s. And it just goes by. Whenever you’re young, and you’re waiting to get 16 to get your driver’s license, the years go by kind of like highline posts.

And then you get that. And you get out, and you go to work, and all that stuff. And then they get a little faster. They get like fence posts. And then pretty soon, you get up to 65 years old. And things change in your life so much so drastically, of putting your feet where you want them and your body where it needs to be. It’s gone.

And time goes by like cross ties on a railroad track— just tch-tch-tch-tch. These days are gone. So while you’ve got it, use it. Your mind, your strength, your agility, use it.

If I can call back forty years— I’m looking forward to going to heaven. And I wouldn’t want to go through all my youth again. But I miss what I could do. I miss it.

If I got 10 more years in me, that’ll be plenty. I’ll be 83. I don’t want to live past 83.

I don’t want to be where somebody has to take care of me or lead me around or slobbering all my belly in a restaurant somewhere from a stroke. I’d just, of course, fall. And I’d break my neck. I really would.

So you come back through here 10 years from now, I might be around. I might not. If I ain’t, it’s all all right. I’ve had a good life. I know 23, 73 looks pretty old. That’s 50 years difference, son. 50 years makes a lot of difference. But I relate. I can remember 23.

Talked to ma about the corpses she’s seen. Her pop had his skull crushed when his truck went off a cliff. Her sister drowned in a river. Alfredo—some distant cousin—died a few years back. His body was more of a pale serene. He kept to himself mostly. Some kind of private battle with alcoholism. She had to explain that this is why none of us knew him. Most recently it was her uncle Luis. My grandmother’s brother. He was done in just shy of eighty by a malignant tumor in the throat. She won’t be going in for a look at the body. Just the prayers, she says. I asked her about the closure of it. She said she understands how some people would need that.

I can more than hold down my liquor, but God. It’s terrible, like smoking. One of those things that just sinks in with time and a little effort. I’d rather have some pancakes.

Hit the Road | This American Life

Hit the Road | This American Life

Hit the Road | This American Life

I understand. It hadn’t been, I don’t know, the day before yesterday or something, I was in my 20s. And it just goes by. Whenever you’re young, and you’re waiting to get 16 to get your driver’s license, the years go by kind of like highline posts.

And then you get that. And you get out, and you go to work, and all that stuff. And then they get a little faster. They get like fence posts. And then pretty soon, you get up to 65 years old. And things change in your life so much so drastically, of putting your feet where you want them and your body where it needs to be. It’s gone.

And time goes by like cross ties on a railroad track— just tch-tch-tch-tch. These days are gone. So while you’ve got it, use it. Your mind, your strength, your agility, use it.

If I can call back forty years— I’m looking forward to going to heaven. And I wouldn’t want to go through all my youth again. But I miss what I could do. I miss it.

If I got 10 more years in me, that’ll be plenty. I’ll be 83. I don’t want to live past 83.

I don’t want to be where somebody has to take care of me or lead me around or slobbering all my belly in a restaurant somewhere from a stroke. I’d just, of course, fall. And I’d break my neck. I really would.

So you come back through here 10 years from now, I might be around. I might not. If I ain’t, it’s all all right. I’ve had a good life. I know 23, 73 looks pretty old. That’s 50 years difference, son. 50 years makes a lot of difference. But I relate. I can remember 23.

Talked to ma about the corpses she’s seen. Her pop had his skull crushed when his truck went off a cliff. Her sister drowned in a river. Alfredo—some distant cousin—died a few years back. His body was more of a pale serene. He kept to himself mostly. Some kind of private battle with alcoholism. She had to explain that this is why none of us knew him. Most recently it was her uncle Luis. My grandmother’s brother. He was done in just shy of eighty by a malignant tumor in the throat. She won’t be going in for a look at the body. Just the prayers, she says. I asked her about the closure of it. She said she understands how some people would need that.

I can more than hold down my liquor, but God. It’s terrible, like smoking. One of those things that just sinks in with time and a little effort. I’d rather have some pancakes.

I’ve taken to checking the obituaries for the previous week. Online journals and local sites. Usually on Thursday or Friday mornings after my most wearied evenings. Fruitlessly of course, as she was a fastidious health nut, but there is always the possibility that somehow, some way, she is dead. And though I would feel something like guilt immediately after the information settles in, it would provide that ridiculous sense of closure that all people seem to want, myself whole-heartedly included. The relief would be immense.

But then, as with all paths in this life, I would be down another purpose, and left to wonder what to do with myself. How does one move on from waiting for someone to die?

I’ve taken to checking the obituaries for the previous week. Online journals and local sites. Usually on Thursday or Friday mornings after my most wearied evenings. Fruitlessly of course, as she was a fastidious health nut, but there is always the possibility that somehow, some way, she is dead. And though I would feel something like guilt immediately after the information settles in, it would provide that ridiculous sense of closure that all people seem to want, myself whole-heartedly included. The relief would be immense.

But then, as with all paths in this life, I would be down another purpose, and left to wonder what to do with myself. How does one move on from waiting for someone to die?

Your life is cute little notes on the Internet.

08-05-13, 10:29 AM

She already knows.

03-05-13, 10:58 AM

Quintessential power fantasy. All of it appealing.

02-05-13, 12:03 PM

Qualitative comparison is not productive beyond passing thought. Lingering on it, I mean.

A sense of possession can rile me up. Nothing for it but to let some time pass.

01-05-13, 05:36 PM

Not one for excitement. Grins, for instance, are weird. I prefer to silently soak in whatever’s got me riled up. Remember the moment.

I do suck at hiding my disdain or confusion about things. Doesn’t concern me.

01-05-13, 03:16 PM

“For office workers who have fallen into debt because they spend their salaries on dresses, for women who require regular appointments with podiatrists to compensate for the ravages of years on high heels, for the victims of disastrous plastic surgery, for those who deprive themselves of sugar, for invalids who rise from bed only to dress and make up and then fall back exhausted, for those who weep in front of mirrors, for those with great legs and bad tempers, for mutton dressed as lamb, for those who sweat and strain their muscles out of fidelity to the illusions of a form.

“Spare them diseases of the skin and teeth, for in their sacrifice of time and health and friendship they have given hope to strangers whose hearts have been lifted at the sight of a line that finished itself finely, of colors undreamed of by nature, of constructions which at once affirm and quite deny the body’s range.

“Bless them, because a change of fashion can allow us to believe there could just be, for all of us, a change of heart.

“Grant this for the sake of Your love, which has adorned the mountains and created feathers and elaborate tails, O Lord, source of all that exists for delight only, for display only, suggestions, in the joy of their variety, of the ecstacy of light which is eternal, changeless and ever-changing.”

—Mary Gordon, from “Prayers”

30-04-13, 06:45 PM

Generally not. I get by on dissociation.

29-04-13, 04:03 PM

Mollete.

25-04-13, 12:36 PM

We didn’t talk much. Made out beside a tree for a while.

25-04-13, 12:34 PM

Collaboration. I do the thing. Don’t waste a lot of time planning it. If it takes too long to plan, on to the next thing.

The completed thing is good or it sucks. If it sucks, scrap the thing and leverage the effort elsewhere. If it’s good, look the thing over and state what needs fixing. I address what makes sense and revise it. The thing is done. On to the next thing.

24-04-13, 06:05 PM

I looked into corrective surgery for my underbite, many years ago. It involved cutting away sections of jaw to line things up. Cost + hassle of recovery shut that down quickly. Not worth it. I’ve since come to appreciate what I have. A functional, healthy jaw. And my look is who I am. A ‘normal’ profile would be alien to me. It would be a different man in the mirror.

The procedure you’re considering now sounds far less severe. I’d suggest serious research—all the before and after photos you can find included—to get an idea of how it could alter your view of yourself. I think you look fine. And I have no reason to bullshit you.

23-04-13, 11:43 AM

The universe likes to fuck with people.

22-04-13, 06:22 PM

Howdy.

22-04-13, 06:04 PM

More like a dark liquor. A grudge is a sweet release and a slow death.

22-04-13, 11:29 AM

I arguably have a thing for sad women. I’m still working on reasons, but experience dictates I don’t mix well with them. So I’m attracted but know enough not to get (too) involved.

Sad stories are good if they’re told in an interesting way.

22-04-13, 11:25 AM

The purpose is giving someone the business.

22-04-13, 11:17 AM

‘Whatever.’

22-04-13, 11:10 AM

That’s a critical turning point. Living to see one’s parents become merely human, as frail as anyone else. Equals.

21-04-13, 11:20 AM

I sometimes down a cup of cold breakfast tea. No extras.

21-04-13, 10:45 AM

Indeed. No use in trying to improve the dregs.

19-04-13, 03:38 PM

London was married twice and had two daughters with whom his relationship became chillingly, almost cruelly, distant, Kershaw says. His first marriage had ended in anger and scandal — he was having an affair with Charmian, who would become his second wife, the love of his life, his “Mate Woman.” It was, as Kershaw writes, a match made in London’s version of heaven: “At last, here was a woman who adored fornication, expected Jack to make her climax, and to do so frequently, and who didn’t burst into tears when the sadist in him punched her in the mouth.”.

19-04-13, 02:22 PM

Pop:

-Work ethic.

-DIY approach to life.

-Compassion.

-Humility.

-Acceptance of people different from us.

-Self-respect (directly and indirectly).

Mom:

-Patience with overbearing people.

-Stoicism.

-How to learn.

19-04-13, 02:10 PM

This thing’s like a bible. All allegory and instruction.

19-04-13, 02:07 PM

It sounds like a clash of similar personalities. You’re both emotionally charged folks who release pressure every now and then. Being on the receiving end of these emotional releases is a shock and necessitates a period of downtime. This isn’t inherently problematic if you approach it as such and are clear in communicating that to the other person. Don’t misconstrue this as some deep-seeded problem and stress over it during the downtime. This is critical.

If things are strained even after cooling down, then perhaps one of those big talks is in order to figure out the core of the problem with an aim on a resolution.

19-04-13, 01:49 PM

Energy savings. I can invest all of myself and bust my ass—stressing myself in the process—and get an A+. Or I can just do the work that comes easily and without as much effort and come out with a solid B. Or a C if I’m only concerned with the pass/fail, as is the case with courses in which I have no personal investment.

The work gets done. A binary state: success or failure. And I’m not stressed about things which have no long term significance. I can redirect my spare energy towards projects I care about.

19-04-13, 11:54 AM

The context is indecisiveness, or hiding behind feigned indecisiveness. I don’t abide it.

19-04-13, 11:44 AM

“In the case of Boston they were real bombs, in this case they’re digital bombs. And these digital bombs are on their way.”

18-04-13, 03:55 PM

Bump.

18-04-13, 11:41 AM

“I don’t know.”

18-04-13, 11:32 AM

The 90s.

17-04-13, 01:29 PM

Rapt admiration.

17-04-13, 01:26 PM

Pretty girls in their summer clothes.

17-04-13, 01:15 PM

Do you believe that?

17-04-13, 12:48 PM

Interesting, though wordy. These studies need a bullet list at the end to summarize.

17-04-13, 12:38 PM

Small talk is a lot like what you see here. Various interconnected threads. You start one, then another, then another.

Social convention helps simplify.

“Beer?”

“Sure,” or “Nah.”

17-04-13, 11:31 AM

It briefly helped to clarify things.

Anyway, I was more interested in using to understand others.

14-04-13, 02:25 AM

Burro Schmidt tunnel out in the Mojave. Poked right through the top of a mountain by a man. Spent his life doing that. Chipping away with tools and dynamite. You walk in there without a light and there’s nothing. Black. I might’ve said that already.

Second to that is a patch of trees near Strathcona dam along the Campbell river. Can’t tell you where, but I know it when I see it. On the water’s edge. You’ll see tracks and burned wood in the spring. Walk into those trees and you’re surrounded. A green cage. An awful isolation. Makes you face things.

A quiet walk’s like that. No talking. Nothing forced. Surrounded by the presence of someone else.

11-04-13, 05:20 PM

‘Amoral’ is a more decisive choice. Not that I am.

I follow the basic rules.

11-04-13, 11:27 AM

I’d say you’re taking your life with you.

Enjoy the ride.

11-04-13, 11:25 AM

That is weird. Places will sell you burgers piecemeal if you order it that way. Or without the buns.

11-04-13, 11:18 AM

It’s a corollary.

10-04-13, 01:55 PM

Cole died last week. I found out today. A car crash. I wouldn’t have wondered about his absence if not for a message from someone who talked with him regularly. People disappear. That’s how it is. But how, or where, or why. Not considered, especially in this age.

I read various thoughts from people about his death. It began to affect me. I wrote him a personal note about our shared love of literature and short stories. He gathered a group of us together into a short story club. I got to read many stories I wouldn’t have otherwise read. His impact is marked. A strange thing, you know? Myriad connections. Lives we wouldn’t otherwise know. Stories we wouldn’t otherwise have.

I finished the note with, “Goodbye.” I couldn’t maintain composure without it. Another grave to visit for last respects.

09-04-13, 12:24 PM

Oh that J.

08-04-13, 05:09 PM

Something I’m listening to.

08-04-13, 03:58 PM

Carnally.

Peacefully.

08-04-13, 03:48 PM

To my dismay.

08-04-13, 12:52 PM

It feels fucked up either way.

Though it is a decisive and definitive decision. I respect someone more for this.

02-04-13, 01:25 PM

It’s time to start looking for peace, again.

02-04-13, 01:19 PM

Another goal is accomplished. I’ve been riding the wave of satisfaction for months. I want to stay here, this place. Inspiration is so rare to find. It is pervasive. All these ideas flitting around like moths. Subsequently, I’ve been spreading myself thin with half-started projects. Structure is required. As my contract date approaches I have a decision to make.

I broke down during this scene a few days ago. Just a face-contorting punch in the gut. Music, you know? It transcends clutter. Gets to the core of the matter. Right here.

31-03-13, 10:19 PM

Jenga is a harrowing experience.

31-03-13, 10:09 PM

Invite the other person to try and persuade you to accept their position. A good learning technique.

Your life is cute little notes on the Internet.

08-05-13, 10:29 AM

She already knows.

03-05-13, 10:58 AM

Quintessential power fantasy. All of it appealing.

02-05-13, 12:03 PM

Qualitative comparison is not productive beyond passing thought. Lingering on it, I mean.

A sense of possession can rile me up. Nothing for it but to let some time pass.

01-05-13, 05:36 PM

Not one for excitement. Grins, for instance, are weird. I prefer to silently soak in whatever’s got me riled up. Remember the moment.

I do suck at hiding my disdain or confusion about things. Doesn’t concern me.

01-05-13, 03:16 PM

“For office workers who have fallen into debt because they spend their salaries on dresses, for women who require regular appointments with podiatrists to compensate for the ravages of years on high heels, for the victims of disastrous plastic surgery, for those who deprive themselves of sugar, for invalids who rise from bed only to dress and make up and then fall back exhausted, for those who weep in front of mirrors, for those with great legs and bad tempers, for mutton dressed as lamb, for those who sweat and strain their muscles out of fidelity to the illusions of a form.

“Spare them diseases of the skin and teeth, for in their sacrifice of time and health and friendship they have given hope to strangers whose hearts have been lifted at the sight of a line that finished itself finely, of colors undreamed of by nature, of constructions which at once affirm and quite deny the body’s range.

“Bless them, because a change of fashion can allow us to believe there could just be, for all of us, a change of heart.

“Grant this for the sake of Your love, which has adorned the mountains and created feathers and elaborate tails, O Lord, source of all that exists for delight only, for display only, suggestions, in the joy of their variety, of the ecstacy of light which is eternal, changeless and ever-changing.”

—Mary Gordon, from “Prayers”

30-04-13, 06:45 PM

Generally not. I get by on dissociation.

29-04-13, 04:03 PM

Mollete.

25-04-13, 12:36 PM

We didn’t talk much. Made out beside a tree for a while.

25-04-13, 12:34 PM

Collaboration. I do the thing. Don’t waste a lot of time planning it. If it takes too long to plan, on to the next thing.

The completed thing is good or it sucks. If it sucks, scrap the thing and leverage the effort elsewhere. If it’s good, look the thing over and state what needs fixing. I address what makes sense and revise it. The thing is done. On to the next thing.

24-04-13, 06:05 PM

I looked into corrective surgery for my underbite, many years ago. It involved cutting away sections of jaw to line things up. Cost + hassle of recovery shut that down quickly. Not worth it. I’ve since come to appreciate what I have. A functional, healthy jaw. And my look is who I am. A ‘normal’ profile would be alien to me. It would be a different man in the mirror.

The procedure you’re considering now sounds far less severe. I’d suggest serious research—all the before and after photos you can find included—to get an idea of how it could alter your view of yourself. I think you look fine. And I have no reason to bullshit you.

23-04-13, 11:43 AM

The universe likes to fuck with people.

22-04-13, 06:22 PM

Howdy.

22-04-13, 06:04 PM

More like a dark liquor. A grudge is a sweet release and a slow death.

22-04-13, 11:29 AM

I arguably have a thing for sad women. I’m still working on reasons, but experience dictates I don’t mix well with them. So I’m attracted but know enough not to get (too) involved.

Sad stories are good if they’re told in an interesting way.

22-04-13, 11:25 AM

The purpose is giving someone the business.

22-04-13, 11:17 AM

‘Whatever.’

22-04-13, 11:10 AM

That’s a critical turning point. Living to see one’s parents become merely human, as frail as anyone else. Equals.

21-04-13, 11:20 AM

I sometimes down a cup of cold breakfast tea. No extras.

21-04-13, 10:45 AM

Indeed. No use in trying to improve the dregs.

19-04-13, 03:38 PM

London was married twice and had two daughters with whom his relationship became chillingly, almost cruelly, distant, Kershaw says. His first marriage had ended in anger and scandal — he was having an affair with Charmian, who would become his second wife, the love of his life, his “Mate Woman.” It was, as Kershaw writes, a match made in London’s version of heaven: “At last, here was a woman who adored fornication, expected Jack to make her climax, and to do so frequently, and who didn’t burst into tears when the sadist in him punched her in the mouth.”.

19-04-13, 02:22 PM

Pop:

-Work ethic.

-DIY approach to life.

-Compassion.

-Humility.

-Acceptance of people different from us.

-Self-respect (directly and indirectly).

Mom:

-Patience with overbearing people.

-Stoicism.

-How to learn.

19-04-13, 02:10 PM

This thing’s like a bible. All allegory and instruction.

19-04-13, 02:07 PM

It sounds like a clash of similar personalities. You’re both emotionally charged folks who release pressure every now and then. Being on the receiving end of these emotional releases is a shock and necessitates a period of downtime. This isn’t inherently problematic if you approach it as such and are clear in communicating that to the other person. Don’t misconstrue this as some deep-seeded problem and stress over it during the downtime. This is critical.

If things are strained even after cooling down, then perhaps one of those big talks is in order to figure out the core of the problem with an aim on a resolution.

19-04-13, 01:49 PM

Energy savings. I can invest all of myself and bust my ass—stressing myself in the process—and get an A+. Or I can just do the work that comes easily and without as much effort and come out with a solid B. Or a C if I’m only concerned with the pass/fail, as is the case with courses in which I have no personal investment.

The work gets done. A binary state: success or failure. And I’m not stressed about things which have no long term significance. I can redirect my spare energy towards projects I care about.

19-04-13, 11:54 AM

The context is indecisiveness, or hiding behind feigned indecisiveness. I don’t abide it.

19-04-13, 11:44 AM

“In the case of Boston they were real bombs, in this case they’re digital bombs. And these digital bombs are on their way.”

18-04-13, 03:55 PM

Bump.

18-04-13, 11:41 AM

“I don’t know.”

18-04-13, 11:32 AM

The 90s.

17-04-13, 01:29 PM

Rapt admiration.

17-04-13, 01:26 PM

Pretty girls in their summer clothes.

17-04-13, 01:15 PM

Do you believe that?

17-04-13, 12:48 PM

Interesting, though wordy. These studies need a bullet list at the end to summarize.

17-04-13, 12:38 PM

Small talk is a lot like what you see here. Various interconnected threads. You start one, then another, then another.

Social convention helps simplify.

“Beer?”

“Sure,” or “Nah.”

17-04-13, 11:31 AM

It briefly helped to clarify things.

Anyway, I was more interested in using to understand others.

14-04-13, 02:25 AM

Burro Schmidt tunnel out in the Mojave. Poked right through the top of a mountain by a man. Spent his life doing that. Chipping away with tools and dynamite. You walk in there without a light and there’s nothing. Black. I might’ve said that already.

Second to that is a patch of trees near Strathcona dam along the Campbell river. Can’t tell you where, but I know it when I see it. On the water’s edge. You’ll see tracks and burned wood in the spring. Walk into those trees and you’re surrounded. A green cage. An awful isolation. Makes you face things.

A quiet walk’s like that. No talking. Nothing forced. Surrounded by the presence of someone else.

11-04-13, 05:20 PM

‘Amoral’ is a more decisive choice. Not that I am.

I follow the basic rules.

11-04-13, 11:27 AM

I’d say you’re taking your life with you.

Enjoy the ride.

11-04-13, 11:25 AM

That is weird. Places will sell you burgers piecemeal if you order it that way. Or without the buns.

11-04-13, 11:18 AM

It’s a corollary.

10-04-13, 01:55 PM

Cole died last week. I found out today. A car crash. I wouldn’t have wondered about his absence if not for a message from someone who talked with him regularly. People disappear. That’s how it is. But how, or where, or why. Not considered, especially in this age.

I read various thoughts from people about his death. It began to affect me. I wrote him a personal note about our shared love of literature and short stories. He gathered a group of us together into a short story club. I got to read many stories I wouldn’t have otherwise read. His impact is marked. A strange thing, you know? Myriad connections. Lives we wouldn’t otherwise know. Stories we wouldn’t otherwise have.

I finished the note with, “Goodbye.” I couldn’t maintain composure without it. Another grave to visit for last respects.

09-04-13, 12:24 PM

Oh that J.

08-04-13, 05:09 PM

Something I’m listening to.

08-04-13, 03:58 PM

Carnally.

Peacefully.

08-04-13, 03:48 PM

To my dismay.

08-04-13, 12:52 PM

It feels fucked up either way.

Though it is a decisive and definitive decision. I respect someone more for this.

02-04-13, 01:25 PM

It’s time to start looking for peace, again.

02-04-13, 01:19 PM

Another goal is accomplished. I’ve been riding the wave of satisfaction for months. I want to stay here, this place. Inspiration is so rare to find. It is pervasive. All these ideas flitting around like moths. Subsequently, I’ve been spreading myself thin with half-started projects. Structure is required. As my contract date approaches I have a decision to make.

I broke down during this scene a few days ago. Just a face-contorting punch in the gut. Music, you know? It transcends clutter. Gets to the core of the matter. Right here.

31-03-13, 10:19 PM

Jenga is a harrowing experience.

31-03-13, 10:09 PM

Invite the other person to try and persuade you to accept their position. A good learning technique.

I woke up to the same painful pulse in my foot. The joint at the right ball pivot is fucked, and I do not know the cause. It would cost money to have someone see it. Instead, I imagined the same scene from a day dream of several days ago: my bloated body loping along with a strong cane in hand. A pain grimace when I slip and put all of my weight on the wrong place. Years ahead to an uncertain future and an untreated condition. When I inspected the right foot as compared to the left, there was no discernible difference. Both were extraordinarily fat. A hint of a bruise, perhaps, but not enough to warrant the strain of closer inspection.The change I selected was to eat a heavy breakfast. A common three-meal day, with a heavy base and refined peak. I still find myself craving a hit in the evening. My mind becomes clouded, and my bitterness wells up into anger. It subsides as I arrive at home and sit in silence. If early, I find ease at work, which serves as a sedative. The rules are clear, and it is easy to be comfortable.I noticed, while reading further along into a book on the train, that I can see the tops of my cheeks when I look down. That is also new.In this book, the protagonist had made a life of fraud and deception. He is often overwhelmed by the weight of his lies and stories. The life he leads is unappealing: he crashes with friends, lies when convenient, and plays the fool when he feels he must. Privately, he feels as I do. He leads  a despicable life. Thus far he is 25 years old, and it forces me to contemplate my own time at 25. The things I could have taken advantage of. However, I like one thing about the way he lives. He has a friend with whom he can be completely honest. Cons, lies, stories. She loves hearing it as much as he loves telling it. She expects nothing, particularly physical tenderness of any kind. No hugs, no kisses, no come-ons. Just the thought arouses day dreams of a simpler existence and somebody comfortable.The author, Patricia Highsmith, has been of interest to me since I first heard a radio discussion about her. To paraphrase one of the participants: “If not for writing, she surely would have gone to prison for murder.” I traced the line of her life and found photographs of her as a young woman, nude, certain in a careless and youthful way; as an old woman, mighty hump on her back, and a scowl so embedded in her face that it looked carved by a knife. It was fascinating just then, the way a person can be young and beautiful and then old and sagging in all places. I found comfort in it. Lately, I imagine the women I cared for also growing old and abandoned as their surface beauty degrades. My only hope for success in their lives is bitterness channeled into an art.Foolishness, of course. Winsome foolishness. Highsmith’s story is compelling, and I continued to read even as I paused to compile such mental notes.I stopped my reading shortly before arrival at work to consider Bodhidarma. It was said to me that he could channel energy through his stomach and into his hands. He sat in a cave and looked at a wall for nine years when he was denied entry into an institution. He was a furred barbarian, belligerent, and generally unpleasant toward his fellow man. I found comfort in this as well.

I woke up to the same painful pulse in my foot. The joint at the right ball pivot is fucked, and I do not know the cause. It would cost money to have someone see it. Instead, I imagined the same scene from a day dream of several days ago: my bloated body loping along with a strong cane in hand. A pain grimace when I slip and put all of my weight on the wrong place. Years ahead to an uncertain future and an untreated condition. When I inspected the right foot as compared to the left, there was no discernible difference. Both were extraordinarily fat. A hint of a bruise, perhaps, but not enough to warrant the strain of closer inspection.The change I selected was to eat a heavy breakfast. A common three-meal day, with a heavy base and refined peak. I still find myself craving a hit in the evening. My mind becomes clouded, and my bitterness wells up into anger. It subsides as I arrive at home and sit in silence. If early, I find ease at work, which serves as a sedative. The rules are clear, and it is easy to be comfortable.I noticed, while reading further along into a book on the train, that I can see the tops of my cheeks when I look down. That is also new.In this book, the protagonist had made a life of fraud and deception. He is often overwhelmed by the weight of his lies and stories. The life he leads is unappealing: he crashes with friends, lies when convenient, and plays the fool when he feels he must. Privately, he feels as I do. He leads  a despicable life. Thus far he is 25 years old, and it forces me to contemplate my own time at 25. The things I could have taken advantage of. However, I like one thing about the way he lives. He has a friend with whom he can be completely honest. Cons, lies, stories. She loves hearing it as much as he loves telling it. She expects nothing, particularly physical tenderness of any kind. No hugs, no kisses, no come-ons. Just the thought arouses day dreams of a simpler existence and somebody comfortable.The author, Patricia Highsmith, has been of interest to me since I first heard a radio discussion about her. To paraphrase one of the participants: “If not for writing, she surely would have gone to prison for murder.” I traced the line of her life and found photographs of her as a young woman, nude, certain in a careless and youthful way; as an old woman, mighty hump on her back, and a scowl so embedded in her face that it looked carved by a knife. It was fascinating just then, the way a person can be young and beautiful and then old and sagging in all places. I found comfort in it. Lately, I imagine the women I cared for also growing old and abandoned as their surface beauty degrades. My only hope for success in their lives is bitterness channeled into an art.Foolishness, of course. Winsome foolishness. Highsmith’s story is compelling, and I continued to read even as I paused to compile such mental notes.I stopped my reading shortly before arrival at work to consider Bodhidarma. It was said to me that he could channel energy through his stomach and into his hands. He sat in a cave and looked at a wall for nine years when he was denied entry into an institution. He was a furred barbarian, belligerent, and generally unpleasant toward his fellow man. I found comfort in this as well.