Thursday, February 13, 2014

Eye-witness News

Across the street from my morning bus stop, and above the Tavern and Pool that occupies the ground floor, are some apartment windows -- one of which is usually lit, in the mornings when I am there, and never curtained. Since I am looking up at it, I cannot really tell what sort of room it lights -- on the one hand, it is a bay window, and has three sides, so too big to be a kitchen, or even a bedroom, and it is at the front of the building, all of which argue for it being the living room -- but on the other hand, the room seems to have several different types of furniture and articles in it -- so perhaps it is what they call in England a bedsit?  Or one of those kitchens that has no walls dividing it from the rest of the apartment?  Maybe one big room, with a bed out of sight along the back wall, and a kitchenette in the right-hand corner?

In any case, this morning as I sat on the little bench under the roof of the shelter, I was looking up at the yellow rectangle, which had a curtain drawn back in the far left side, condensation along the bottom half of the middle section making the view blurred, and the right hand section being at the wrong angle to see through.  And I saw what looked like either a blurred outline of a man's head, or a shadow on the wall of a man's head.  But I could not tell what on earth the man was doing.  It looked as though he were crying in desperate sobs, with shaking shoulders and bobbing head, on and on.  I looked away for a moment, and then looked back, to see him raise his head and then drop it again and the "sobbing" continue.  

I was both sorry for him, and confused -- it was seven a.m. -- not usually the time to see someone overwhelmed by tears.  Unless this were a very depressed person, or possibly someone with mental difficulties... and then the large cat stopped washing itself and jumped down from the table it had been sitting on.  Its shadow grew and shrank as it moved, until it clearly delineated a cat, and then vanished.

Saturday, February 8, 2014

Anyone Who Knows Me Well

You know what I need -- I need a small tape recorder that hangs around my neck or slips in my pocket -- so that when these lines cross my mind I can record them, and not merely repeat them to myself several times in admiration and then promptly forget them.  Don't think I have remembered a single one, when I was seated at a keyboard.  That's why it would be good to have a place to set up my computer so that it was constantly on.  Still wouldn't be as good as having a tape recorder, but.  Can't afford a tape recorder at the moment.  

And the thought of one gives me a moment of mixed negative feelings -- since a) I gave Michael I small handheld recorder back in the days when I believed (or at least almost believed)that he was writing songs and needed something to hum into; b) Dad lent me one when I told him about how Michael was trying so hard to make me think I was severely brain-damaged, and couldn't remember what I had just that minute said and done; and c) when I consulted it and showed Michael what I had just, in fact, said and done, he pitched a huge fit, and confiscated it.  So I was unable to return it to my father. 

Nonetheless, I would like a small handheld, voice activated tape recorder.  And some mini tapes.

This is Saturday, noonish, and I already feel as though my holiday has gone on and on.  The cheerful smack of pool balls momentarily lifts my spirits, but I am feeling a weird combination of bored and lonely. Not that I AM bored -- I really am not.  Been enjoying myself in my solitude -- but it is a recognizable part of the feeling I have that makes me want to get my coat on and go out into the snow.  I called Ruthie yesterday and today, and that helped me a great deal -- and I feel as though I am going to accomplish all sorts of stuff in the time that I have left.

Unlikely as that may seem to anyone who knows me well.