Thursday, May 15, 2014

Brunch and Everything

Well, another day, and I still don’t have the answers to the big questions. (So don’t go getting all excited).  Mostly, I just look around and watch everything and I’m pretty baffled still.

Now the park is covered in cotton from the big tree.  And I think about all of these days.  The different mornings and the chapters.  Everything moving by.  What I’ve done.  What I will do.

Sometimes I’ll be wondering what this is, all of this, and then I start thinking so much that I start to miss just about everything. Everything I’ve ever done and everything I’ve ever been and then I start thinking about everything I'm going to have to do but I don’t know how I can possibly manage it all. Well, now, that sure is the kind of thinking that can get you into trouble. How am I gonna pull the rest of this off?  Oh, boy.  

The flower shop next to my store moved.  That’s kind of sad for me.  Even though it’s not really a big deal.  It’s just that, kind of the only two people I've really connected with over in Venice work at that shop and they give me flowers and we chat on our breaks and it’s been nice.  And I don’t even know their names.  And there they go.  And that was that.  Their stories marching on.  All of these lives crossing paths and all of these things.  And you just can’t hold on to any of it, I guess.  I don't know.  

Well, I know a few things. Like, I know there’s kind of nothing like going to brunch. Z and I have decided: More brunch! Here’s our favorite places to go:  Stella.  Blu Jam.  Chateau Marmot. In no particular order, except: Favorite. Second favorite. Special occasion because a little too pricey favorite.

It’s just so peaceful having a nice long brunch.  And then all of my worries are gone and I’m smiling and just enjoying whatever this is and even if I am thinking, at least it feels productive or worth while or something because it’s not bad to think, it’s just that you can overthink sometimes.  Or, well, it’s just that I can overthink.

But brunch.  It feels like something really good carved out of this strange ordeal and all of the little ordeals.  And at brunch we tell stories and contemplate and wonder but mostly just enjoy it.  It’s quiet and close and savored.  And there’s eggs and stuff.  And, for me at least, it’s like you just sort of feel life and being in life, just sitting there, time kind of stopping for a little while and you don’t worry about aging and money and what if you get MERS and where are all the ambulii going and if that one beggar at the corner is going to throw something at you because he’s always throwing things at people or if the overpass is going to collapse when you’re under it waiting for the light to change.  

It’s good, brunch. Just being in the world like that.  Where it’s all pretty nice all of a sudden.  

So that’s something.

What is all of this? I have no idea.  No idea at all.  But I know it’s a small part of this big humungous thing.  And even though we’re a small part of that, we are a part of it.  That’s like scientifically proven.  And it’s a pretty great thing.  

And we meet and interact and we are everything we’ve been and everything we will be and everything we’ve done and everything we will do.  And, for now, I guess, we tell stories at brunch and keep moving and find moments to be still. Me, the flower shop guys.  We just keep doing this.  

So there’s something too. 

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