Though I should probably blame my bank. Both of its ATMs were out of order today, so I had to use the card at Safeway, and that threw me of a bit. Unexpected things usually do. Essentially I have but to ways of dealing with the world: complete tunnel vision, in which I am so focused on the task at hand as I expect it to be that anything unexpected throws it into disarray; and scattered, in which I am so unfocused that I'm going to do stupid things anyway. Shopping is definitely a tunnel vision task. Watching television is a scattered task, and it's not unusual for me to come to the end of a program with a very tenuous grasp on what I've just seen because my mind kept wandering. Happily there are some shows that can keep me focused, but often I prefer the ones that let me woolgather without any real loss (thanks, Rob Dyrdek.)
The stores were also out of a couple of things I wanted, so there'll be some creative improvisation needed for meals this week, unless I can get somebody to haul my sorry, non-motorist arse off to shop some more. I did, however, get a pleasant surprise in a slight sale on a certain brand of frozen tamales which I like but seldom buy because they are a bit too pricey. I got the last bag on the shelf, and I think the store (or maybe the company that makes them) might be closing out the line, so this might be the last I ever get. That's always happening with stuff I like. My tastes must be out of step with the mainstream (and it's funny how the backwater I live in is so relentlessly mainstream.)
But tonight I get to cool off a bit more than I have recently. I didn't have to turn the air conditioner on at all, and the windows are already open and the fan bringing in the cool night air. There's actually a very pretty sunset happening right now, and I think I'm going to go outside an enjoy it.
Save as Draft
by Joel Toledo
Or write as poem. The whole point is often
what we miss out on. To revise is to reconsider
the experience of, say, a leaf — never mind
that it is not green anymore. Or, pardon the sudden
evening. The transition was nice enough;
the explosive colors of dusk. And, didn’t you feel
so much sadness? I cannot explain it any better
than how I could when the outlines were still there:
trees and some wonderful new shapes.
Since then, things have changed. A pale hand
moves in the darkness. And someone is calling out,
come to bed, come to bed. And it is just you.
The evening insists on evening. It is that simple.
It is late enough as it is.