“Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.” ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
“There is no point treating a depressed person as though she were just feeling sad, saying, ‘There now, hang on, you’ll get over it.’ Sadness is more or less like a head cold- with patience, it passes. Depression is like cancer.” ~ Barbara Kingsolver
“What if some day or night a demon were to steal after you into your loneliest loneliness and say to you: ‘This life as you now live it and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more’ … Would you not throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse the demon who spoke thus? Or have you once experienced a tremendous moment when you would have answered him: ‘You are a god and never have I heard anything more divine.” ~ Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche
Silly me. Been up an hour and just now put some coffee on to brew. First time through I forgot to put ground coffee and a filter in there. Now the machine sounds like a tiny Saturn 5 taking off. Houston, we have lift off. I hope the coffee works. Let’s pour a cup and see.
I made it a little strong, but I like it that way. My ex-wife, back in ’76, turned me on to strong, quality dark roast coffee made with a Melita filter. I’ve got a little 5-cup Mr. Coffee clone, and the wife is long gone. Last time I saw her was 25 years ago, and that was a shock, as I hadn’t seen her for years, and I did not know she was back in town. I was kneeling down, looking at the bottom shelf of new arrivals, in the Islamorada Library. Suddenly I felt the my hackles rise, and my ears tried to twitch around to catch the sound. A strong presence was entering the library, just behind my back, so I instinctually turn to look. She laughed out loud, while I just kinda stared momentarily. Yeh, she got the last laugh. There was sufficient evidence of unfaithfulness, back then. I can feel the deep sadness right now, right here in front of the desk. She was a good one. Just kinda messed up. I’m sure I was too. Messed up, that is. I s’pose the comment de rigueur would be that we all are messed up in some way. Yeh, right, whatever. I reckon I purely disagree with that assessment. Too aphoristic for my tastes. But back to the coffee. It was the buzz. When I first met her she was only a few years beyond a past life as a San Francisco speed freak hippie; a displaced ballerina, askew with the world. Yeh, yeh, yeh – “Tiny Dancer” and all that stuff. I would have like to see her dance, perform, whatever. She had danced for the ballet company in Santa Fe, New Mexico, which is about 70 miles south of where I sit right here, right now. Yeh, I woulda liked to have seen her dance. Lithe one that she was. When I look back now I see that Rita was the one, among all of those few women, who gave me the most, and allowed me to reciprocate in kind. In kindness. But that was two decades later. Turned out that Rita was into speed as well. She liked to inject cocaine. Paid for by turning tricks. Behind my back, of course. The whole thing came to a finale when the agent from HHS knocked on my door, and we then sat out on the patio and talked about the plight. See, Rita had taken up with some sketchy twisty folks, and maybe I should oughtta get tested for HIV. The agent drew blood, right there on the patio, under the blistering August sub-tropical sun, in front of God and everybody. I never saw her again. I hope she didn’t go back to jail. Hmmmm, that scene on the patio with the government agent feels surreal, to this very day. He took my blood. Two weeks later I got the all’s clear from HHS. No HIV. No more Rita. Bueno bye.
Wow. I think I got carried away there. There’s been a woman on my mind lately. Someone here and now, whom I encounter only occasionally, randomly. The feelings I feel stirring toward this woman are mysterious and timeless – that is to say that I haven’t the foggiest what is going on, and I ain’t gonna no way, no how try to figure it out. That’s probably why Rita and Shannon came to mind. I don’t mind either one of them visiting me in memory. But now, going forward. I’m going out to watch the sunrise for a spell.
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.