Robert (gurdonark) wrote,
Robert
gurdonark

Parachute Man

I rather like those dime store plastic parachute guys, who may be thrown far into the air, so that they may parachute down. Like so many diversions, they are the diversion which may occupy only a moment, but how much of childhood was a kind of endless parade of more or less eternal moments?



Today my mistaken eBay strategy of posting 10 copies of my booklet at once resulted in 2 copies nonetheless selling. It's funny how the approaching end of Summer, and the promise of the holidays, brings people back to eBay auctions.
I've been writing poetry today, which has been great fun.

I got something mailed off today which has been weeks overdue in mailing, and it's amazing how much stress relief doing something long overdue can bring. It's like the undone task is grist, making some dark black pearl, but the pearl evaporates once the grist is removed.

This morning I arrived home after 2 in the morning, as the Phoenix folks determined that it was somehow okay to disembark us to make us all go through security checkpoints, in a blur of people and impossible lines, then cause our flights to take off without those of us who had not made it through security first. It's a funny thing, though. I got upgraded to First Class only because I apparently have now burdened America West with too much of my time, much as a suitor who is not truly loved sometimes gets a date to something important as a reward for dependability. I did not expect the upgrade, but once I had it, I felt shabbily treated when my replacement flight placed me in 15E, squeezed in like a smoked tuna in a tin in a holiday basket.

I'd rather be floating in free space, like a parachute man.
But I wish I did not build expectations in the space of one day. Expectations can be such a bar to simply enjoying life.

A plume of water began to come out from behind a lavatory fitting today in our home, making me spread towels while we wait for the plumber. We've had very little trouble with this home since we bought it, but home ownership has its maintenance hassles to go with its freedom of living.

I have not had good luck in getting a call back from the local hotel room rental rep. Now my fantasy is to choose a nearby rural hamlet, and improbably have a chess tournament there. The Kazoo Open, I've decided to call it. First prize? A metal kazoo. Second prize? A wooden kazoo. Third prize? A plastic kazoo.

We'll see. Right now my imagination is floating, like a parachute guy. I finished "Possession" and made a good dent in Franzen's "The Corrections", assuming I am not mispelling either title or author. I always thought it a bit unfortunate to look an Oprah gift horse in the mouth, but I'm just one of the hoi polloi, I guess. I mean to write a post about being of the hoi polloi, now that I am back where I belong, in row 15 E.

It's been far too long since I found the time to just be and do what I enjoy doing. Today is that time.
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