Concert - The Neighbourhood, December 1, 2013

The Neighbourhood Concert last night was quite an adventure. 

While the kids got the full mosh-pit experience, I went up to the so-called grown-up (alcohol served) area in the balcony, and sat next to a very affectionate, very demonstrative drunk couple.

She was denied service at the bar before the concert even started, but he was an attentive and accommodating lover, making sure her glass was never empty. She was less careful in that regard, spilling twice without appearing to notice.

Her appreciation for his regular replenishments, and their mutual affection was beyond that which could be expressed with each of them remaining in their own seats. To make sure that spilt beer didn't upset their little love-fest, she held her beer—in a rather carefree manner—over me, as she climbed over the arm of her chair on the other side, in an attempt to maximize body contact with her guy.

For all the love they showered on one another, each time he left to get another beer, she redirected her attention to me. Though flattered, I didn't return the attention – being reminded of junior high health classes, and of the prodigious leaping abilities of some of the tiny denizens of the human epidermis. Each time I declined to return her advances, her ardor for her lover only increased upon his return. They say ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’, and without the temporary distraction I might have provided, the urgency of her need for her true love must have been nearly unbearable.

Despite my delight in this, when a seat opened up in the next row above us, I relocated – just in time as it turns out.  About the time I was comfortable in my new seat, she slopped most of her beer onto my now unoccupied seat.

She did provide a finale. When the concert ended, she and her guy disconnected, got up, and—being in the front row— treated the entire balcony to a view of the ‘whale tail’ top part of her thong underwear, as she readjusted herself to prepare for the, presumably, less intimate settings available in the outside world.

I don’t know why I don’t go to more concerts.

Like a Moth

I was drawn to her like a moth to a front-porch light bulb on a warm summer evening—not one of those coldly efficient compact fluorescent lights, or an even more efficient dimmable LED light, that is super bright, but emits no heat—an old-fashioned, searing 100 watt bulbous incandescent, that draws you into increasingly tight spirals, then quick-fries you at the first touch of the sizzling orb; my ardor only intensified by the knowledge that this type of light bulb would soon be outlawed.   

Karma

He knew his karma account was overdrawn, with no source of replenishment any time soon ... but 'a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do', he thought as he fell from the roof of the orphanage he was burglarizing, and noticed that his fall would be broken by a police car – that just happened to be there on an unrelated courtesy call.   

Forgiveness and Remembrance

Des clés du bonheur

Pardonne tout - immédiatement.
Ne jamais oublier les actes de bonté.

Terrible

Terrible
A horse at night,
Standing hitched alone
on the still street;
And whinnying …
as if some sad nude astride him
had gripped hot legs on him,
and sung
a sweet high hungry
single syllable

- Lawrence Ferlinghetti 

Je n’oublie rien

The Present

The past is prologue - immutable.  We can know it fully—or as fully as our filters of memory and ego allow—but can change nothing.  We cannot return – not even to cross an uncrossed t, nor dot a forgotten i.  We may, in memory, relive our joys or consider our regrets, but only as reference.

The future is ours to influence and shape – but not to fully control.  The outcome—subject to myriad other factors—is as protean as next year’s weather forecast.

Confluence - East and West Forks Multnomah Creek

It is the present—the ephemeral, yet omnipresent confluence of past and future—that we inhabit.  It is the seam where we draw together the lessons from our past with our hopes and aspirations the future and weave the fabric of our lives.  

The Gorge

I go to the Gorge to celebrate,  
   - to hike for happiness.  

Dog Mountain in full bloom

  I go to the Gorge to commiserate,
     - and hike away my sorrows. 













I go there to spend time with friends, 

Wahkeena Creek in autumn

And I go there when I need to be alone. 

Confluence - East and West Multnomah Creek

I drink it in, and sometimes overdo it, and need a day to recover.

Like a hangover –
Sometimes I need to over-indulge to fully recharge. 

The Gorge is my drug; I am addicted.  

Gourmand

Among the words that takes on a funny twist in translation is ‘Gourmand’. 
In English, people use this interchangeably with ‘gourmet’ – an epicurian lover of food. 
In the original French, it’s not a noun, it’s an adjective.  ‘Un homme gourmand’ is indeed ‘a man who loves food’, but the suggestion is that (how do we put this delicately) quality is not so important as is quantity.  

It’s not a compliment. 

The Abyss

Nietzsche said that when you ‘… stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you.’ 
Believers of all stripes say that if you send your wishes to heaven, your prayers will be answered. 
And Jesus said that ‘… the Kingdom of God is within you.” 

Seems that whether you cast your gaze downward, upward, or inward, what you see is a mirror.