Could it be? Could the rain be on hiatus? Are my knees, encircled with an inscrutable pain my doctor can only raise her eyebrow at and suggest yet another doctor whose phone rings and rings and nobody ever picks up, be ready for the ride? I fear not but let’s see.
Should I take a moment to glow and gloat in the fact that we’ve come into 55 inches of surround sound television? That’s how fortuitous things have been of late. Once I was in a long tunnel that was, like most tunnels, dark and musty and seemingly without exit and suddenly I’m manic with contingencies despite dragging my heels around the outskirts of even more options. Like- do I want to return to the syllabus and if so, what in the world do I want to chew on? How long will this question be around? It’s in my back pocket- little notes that Cathy takes out before doing the laundry. It’s scattered and congealed and melted down and poured and weighed on scales and offers this then that. It’s on the burner then it’s off. My friends in the rarified world of grad school are remiss to offer definitives as to just what exactly they’ll be doing with their public policy degrees when they’re done. They’re just hungry to have a better grasp on how to mop up what the fuck up and his crew are currently sloshing about. They want to pick up the baton that somebody fumbled years ago, if ever. I kick that one around. I kick around teaching those kids whose struggles with their paralyzing bundles of hyper self-awareness and academic “deficiencies” reflect too brightly in my eyes. I mix in a lot of pragmatism ‘cause I don’t want to spend 2 years immersed in the amorphous. Nope. I Gotta have tangibles at this point. Something that travels well and ages gracefully. How long can I get away with a sigh and a “We’ll see?” If the window is currently open, I’m not entirely sure how or if I even want to go through it.
For now, however, there’s my bike and the lake trail and the sun. For now there is the interstice. I’ve unpacked most of the rocks and sand and I feel sweetness and light returning and I need more time to explore the rooms I had to seal off. Did you know (because I had forgotten) that there are all sorts of ways to recover and share the prospects? I’m always conjuring and hoping. I tell myself the most brilliant stories. I keep the grandeur of it all to myself but I want to share. I’m the most extroverted introvert I know.
But is it me or is just the caffeine? Is it me or is it just the Bill Evans Trio? Silly. It’s all of that and then some. My bike beckons. I hope to see you on the trail. Come on knees!