there's always a space between me & the thing. a safety zone. i am, right now, at risk of further mythologizing that space.
for once, i will have noticed it & not picked it to threads with analysis.
yesterday: big out-door gathering. had nothing to do but sit, drink beer, and smoke butts. clouds antagonized those wearing sunglasses around four in the afternoon. i don't know; i took my watch off when i realized i didn't want to be aware of the time. the sun drowned in their gray swaddling, and sank futilely into the horizon without our being aware of it. the hours culminated in a drunken bike-ride home.
new bar, located on the fringe of the old port, nestled into a strange little culvert. iron bars on the windows. an eleven-page beer list, spanning the globe when it came to their country of origin. had a calvados from the UK. some dry, spicy sopressata and gorgonzola. some olives, both moroccan dry-cured (not my favourite) & provencal. some exceptionally sour cornichon pickles. excellent music, not too loud. i'm keeping it a secret. it's my new plan. less of the downtown lounge, and more of having a beer or three at ______. seems i can get drunk in a variety of interesting ways with a variety of interesting drinks. next up: the Cantillon "cuvee de champion," which is a lambic. it will be nice to learn about new things.
in the between-time, there are many things i need to do.
also: there is a mourning-dove outside my window, tucked somewhere in the eaves. there is no word to describe the weird ululations that come out of them, nor the pulsating rhythm to which they perform.
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