Saturday, September 22, 2018

Harvest Disease

Autumn has arrived, and here in my own hometown, you can feel it.  Well, you can if you are from here and have lived with the intense hothouse heat we have had for months.  Last night, after a cocktail and a very expensive bleu cheese hamburger and truffle fries, I sat on my deck with a Cuban cheroot and a scotch.  First time that I could stand to do that in months.  That is how I ended the work week. 

I sat alone in the chi-chi bar that I have avoided for quite awhile, favoring the cheaper hipster Cafe Strange.  I sat between two couples who were also eating dinner at the bar.  I don't want to generalize, but I will--the relationships between people is very, very bizarre.  It is strange and wondrous to watch the power dynamics and the emotional haptics that make a couple.  On my right sat a maniac baby boy and his mother-aged girlfriend.  They were apparently very well-off and talked nonstop about flying to all the best places in the world.  He was an asshole to her in the most idiotic male, domineering way, and she danced between his barbs with placating tones, cooing sweet words through a troubled lover's grin.  She kept glancing my way perhaps looking for my reaction, but I could tell she was used to taking the public abuse. 

To my left was a woman showing her big fake ta-tas and talking nonstop in an annoyingly seductive manner to a little tatted macho hispanic fellow with a hipster fuck-you haircut close on the sides, bushy on top.  He didn't need to talk.  She was non-stop.  He sat there sullenly as she leaned heavily against him draping her arm around him from time to time. 

Both couples kept the bartender busy ordering cocktails then food, more cocktails, then more food.  Having spent the last half year at my mother's house cooking and drinking at home, I was having sticker shock at my $15 cocktails and $20 burger.  I thought about the money Ili and I spent in these sort of gin joints.  Maybe I am simply preparing myself for the reduced income I will have soon.  Pabst and salted nuts and sardines out of the can.  Whatever it was, watching these two couples gave me pause. 

I have been lachrymose lately.  Maybe its my man cycle.  Sitting here now, though, with a cup of coffee, the light falling through the windows forming autumn patterns on the wall, spilling onto the couch and rug, I feel it all.  Fall is always a mopey time, memories flowing in melancholic streams, filling autumnal pools where on quiet evenings I catch reflections of the moon.  Harvest disease.  A sad madness.  A quiet dismantling. 

That was silly, sloppy, and bad writing, but I'll leave it. . . for shame. 

I get beautified this morning.  I never do this on Saturdays but I had to move my scheduled appointment because of the L.A. trip.  It is O.K.  I feel lazy today.  A few hours in the beauty salon, a mimosa, and a nap.  That is how I plan to spend my Saturday.  Then as the late afternoon gives way to purple sky, I will cook something on the grill and have another cigar and scotch on the deck while mentally preparing for my solo trip.  Cameras are ready.  Plane tickets and car rental done.  I must book hotels today and pack.  One pair of jeans, a pair of shorts, t-shirts and two white poplin button ups.  Not much more.  I am going only to wander and look.  Everything else will take care of itself.  I am going simply to see. 

I have bungled my way through this morning's writing.  Now it is time to go.  I know the day will not go the way I've planned. 

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