Goodbye Blue Monday

“ruggles of red gap”, “top hat”, “a night at the opera” and “dinner at eight”
i didn’t need a plan. i could wait another day or two to finish my staplegun madness (above). there are but two open spaces remaining on the raw, unpainted wall.
when i have the ladder in “work” position, buddy co-ops it as adventureland.

i’ve been wrestling with getting away from the news addiction that formed from last year’s primaries, that followed the election and financial meltdown, rode like a river into the new year and the new presidency and so on.
i actually listen when there’s a news conference, but have let the talking heads get my time and for this, i am not a happy man.
i am struggling with turning off news channels and the like.
this is not an issue with movies of the grey hue. i know many of them like old friends and though i don’t know the entire screenplay, line-by-line, i know when i need to look, if ever. sometimes i will afford myself the entire film my rapt attention. it depends on my mood and my need to climb into the grey.
to immerse myself to keep the wolves at bay.
i got a lot of wolves. i imagine we all do.
that was today’s lesson.
just in case you haven’t heard, here’s some info about the next Bushwick Book Club. susan made such a wonderful poster, though i think her tom may have given assistance. this is the poster;

i think it’s wonderful. don’t you?
the days come and gone and today – tonight – after walking with maxx down broadway to buy fruit, looking the the almost spiritual glow the fog gives the orange-tinged globes under the elevated trainline, i summon the big math and with each step i shout a number, but no one hears me even if they’re peering down from the apartments above the closed businesses below because the Jtrain is hollering past. “8-5-2-5-8-4-5-2-7-5-1″ i say.
tonight, this is my way of praying. i intone numbers like a monk in a 16th century cathedral with super acoustics. when i say the number “five”, it can go one for a good long time like some kind of latin in a gregorian chant. my “three” (if i use it tonight) might sound like eastern vespers in constantinople. my “one” visits from china, my “seven” was africa.
my “two,” from another planet.
when i get to myrtle avenue and the fruitstand, i buy a bunch of bosc pears and almost-ripe bananas, see ben and jerry’s coffee-heathbar-crunch ice cream and buy it too, because i’m saying goodbye to ice cream.
i know that i’ve written about this before and yes, i stopped eating ice cream, but then something happened. i can’t remember what it was, but in the end i was eating ice cream again, so now i have to stop doing that so i devised a plan to say goodbye to all of the ice cream i’ve been a friend to.
after getting my get, me and maxx take the long way home, meaning walking under myrtle avenue up to bushwick avenue where kentucky fried chicken is.
as we walk, the Mtrain passes.
i launch another stream of numbers. maybe some of them were hindu or other some-such tone i can muster.
i reach the corner as the train passes on and i walk onto bushwick toward the store.
i look into the mist – i guess this is east – and maxx gets busy smelling all the signatures in front of the mansion. ahh, the mansion. an interesting story.
….and home and here, keyboards and monitors and grey and white and so on and so on…..

One Response to “took the night off, hid in the grey lights;…heaven….i’m in heaven”

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