An Imagined Rendering

Author's Note, 2011

I moved slowly and carefully. I didn't want it to end.

The Cat's Table by Michael Ondaatje

Adrift

glimpse through a doorway near 23rd & 9th, 2011

notes:

Much is neutral. Not a lot of color, yet as soon as you note it, there it is. A young man in a bright red and white checked shirt, just outside the cafe, smoking a fat cigar. It is 8:30 AM. And there was the beach ball, yesterday. And the young slim bright-lipped barista with the red bandana delicately folded and tied atop her pretty blonde hair.

People know each other here, in this cafe, the cafe where they hide dark chocolate in their pumpkin muffins. It's nice, the knowing each other, and one of the main reasons I've returned. During my first visit I found a disgruntled and handsome middle aged gentleman, weathered jeans and tweed blazer, showering the bright-lipped barista with all of his charm. I could tell it wasn't something he offered up often. Kind of sweet to see her draw it forth. He was sure to tell her when he departed that he wouldn't be back for a week because he'd be off on assignment. It sounded very important. I understand his desire. She hurries no one and elegantly glides to and fro behind the counter. Her description of their carrot muffin is downright eloquent.

I appreciate the comfort of familiarity, even if it is not my own. I'm feeling a little homesick and frankly, adrift. I'm between the place I was born and the place I currently call home. I'll return to that current place for a short while before traveling to the place I called home during most of 2008. I'll be there for my birthday, looking out from a glass tree house. I'm lucky, I know, but sometimes I wake up and have to look around before I know where I am.

Last night I dreamed I had an affair with the young Big Night era Stanley Tucci. I was knitting his wife a sweater. Yes, I said wife, it was an adulterous dream. Oh my. Adulterous, but tastefully edited. One moment I was trying on the sweater for dear Stanley and the next the film jumps straight to the frame where he is laying on my bed shirtless, all else is beneath the pristine white sheets, and I'm exclaiming oh no! what have we done? Next I'm relaying the entire drama to my good friend Isabella Rossellini.

And then I'm awake and trying to recall it all for Chris while laughing hysterically.

They are playing The Big Chill soundtrack in the cafe this morning. A film from 1983. A reminder of how quickly time passes. It's an appropriately cool and crisp autumn day, dead leaves scattered on the street and sidewalk. I'm about to walk back out into it, past three yellow barstools, four succulents, and a waiting scone.

I'd like to think about that.

Fullerton at the Lake, 2011

"I'd like to think about that." How often he has used this simple utterance as a way of granting dignity and validity to the opposing position, without relinquishing or invalidating his own perspective. And note how it isn't a flat submission or commitment: "I will think about that." It's, "I'd like to." As in, I welcome it. As in, I believe it will benefit me to entertain a different viewpoint. To lend my imagination to walking around in your shoes. To enlarge my mental field, my field of consideration and empathy.

-Leah Hager Cohen referencing her father's way of keeping alive difficult dialogue

The rest of Leah Hager Cohen's post here.

Yes.

Anna Emilia wrapped up with a bow, 2011

To walk in the rain with an old friend (yes, J., I believe we have become old friends -- crazy, I know), to taste warm soup, to open a package, remembering there is still such a thing as real mail.

These are the good things in life.

your time is limited...

Window, 2011

“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life,” Jobs said. “Don’t be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”

-Steve Jobs, 1955 - 2011

quote: wired.com

Back in the Saddle

Misty Blue, 2011

It's starting to feel like autumn.