Wednesday, September 11, 2002

To get inside this head of mine will take a monkey wrench--and a lot of WINE!

That's from Res, who I happily stumbled upon in Borders one day, months ago, name unknown, music unheard, but thanks to listening stations, whose CD I bought immediately, replacing months of beloved Jill Scott's incessant play and absolutely dig. (Why fight it? I like the word, I know it's not in vogue, I was a toddler or something when it was, but I like it-- you dig?)


I wonder if there'll be flags out today, if they'll suddenly reappear on all the cars, tucked in joggers shorts to wave in the running breeze. I wonder if people will not go to work today.


I wonder. And if I'd stayed clued in, maybe I'd know. Someone said stores were opening late, and there'd be no ads on tv. I wonder if people will connect again, like they did then, and the blessed still have been, or perhaps always were, in that community of humanity way, that usually only happens here at Christmastime, or if the Redskins are winning. (I wonder if I'll ever install Movable Type?)


I think it should just be quiet. I intend to start the day with a nice, scenic, meditative bike ride. Ruminative. Reverent. I need the space. I realized yesterday that I wish to escape nearly every single aspect of my life. And that's not necessarily a good thing. Though escaping some of them, surely, please God, must be. I have to choose very judiciously.

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