the danish outpost
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this uniform grey


feeling kinda how a girl feels

it's perfectly suited, this uniform grey - there are no bearings to the day...

ambience courtesy of Sarah Harmer.

so i got my first parking ticket. long story, but the punch line is that i didn't move my car in time. i knew i was going to get a ticket. that's just the way it goes. the ticket would be waiting there for me when i got home. fine.

unsurprisingly, there was an orange and white slip on my windshield when i walked around the corner. the ticket cops these days have a nifty little PDA that prints out the ticket. it's not like the old days, when you would find a rain soaked, barely legible stub of pulp under your wiper. nope. now it's a nifty little slip of clearly printed info. one of the nice advances, thanks to technology.

so i walk up to the car, happy that it's still there, intact, and within view of my front door. at least they didn't tow it. the street sign says they tow, but they don't, really. the town is happy enough getting the income from plain old ticketing.

i walked around the car, making sure all the hubcaps are still there (i only have three, and want to hang on to them), and that no one had sideswiped it. life is good. i pulled the ticket out, and glanced down at the info.

how funny is this? the officer who ticketed me? Officer Loveless. i can't make up shit like that.

when i have a chance to borrow the digi cam back, i'll take a snap of the ticket and post it. because, really, if i read that story - i wouldn't believe it. so i want to show all of you the ticket. just so you'll know. :)

now, i have no intention of using the car to get to work. the office is a mile and a half from here. i can walk (which i do most days), or take a bus. it's not worth the $20 a day to use the garage. plus, it's a bad use of gas. so i still commute by foot. (and yes, i now can drive the car well enough to be able to get to work. it's a lifestyle choice.)

however, on the really tough mornings, i break down and take a cab. that's what i had to do this morning. my vow for the week has been to get to work on time, every day, because things need to be more normal.

i was waiting outside on the porch for the cab. and i happened to glance over my shoulder at my neighbor's apartment, because i heard a noise.

we both have bay-ish windows in the front. one large center window, two smaller side windows. he had a side window by the porch open. as in, shades up, screen up, storm window up. and. he. was. Naked. butt fuckin' naked.

now, i fully respect the fact that we are entitled to do what we want in our own living spaces. hell, you could hang by your ankles from the ceiling and have Mrs. Butterworth discipline you, and i wouldn't care - as long as i don't have to see it.

nope. not this one. he felt the need to share his nakedness with everyone. you know... that's just more than i ever want to know about my neighbors. ever.

and then, as if that wasn't enough, he felt the need to hang *out his window* to get the mail. that's a 3 or 4 foot reach from the window to the mailbox. ewwwwww. fortunately, i only heard that. unfortunately, i could imagine an image to go with it, based on the info with which he had already gifted me. *kaff* bleargh.

after work, i headed out to do some writing. home from there took me thru Davis Square. since the attacks last Tuesday, there has been a candle shrine in the square. there's a traffic island with a short granite pillar; god only knows why it was originally put there - not like it's functional. it's been put to good use lately, tho. there are a couple of sawhorses with letters and poems tacked up, and a plethora of candles, flowers, notes, pictures, novenas on the squat little pillar.

i stopped for a while. i had walked by there last week, and the events were still too fresh in my mind for me to be able to pay homage. last night, tho, was the right time to go by there. the notes are amazing. goodbye notes, prayers, thanks to the rescuers... such an outpouring of emotion.

and there were so many candles. i relit the ones i could. everyone else there was doing the same. they left their own votives, pillars, what have you, and then tended to all the other offerings. it felt like being in church, in a way. i've visited Catholic churches, and lit candles for people i've lost. same in mosques or chapels. this was more touching than any church or temple, because it was a spontaneous thing. and it's a gathering place for people, created out of our need to share and connect.

i stayed for a while, and then headed home on the bus. when i got on the bus, there was a section of the paper lying on the seat in front of me. being a compulsive reader, i picked it up. and i caught my breath. there was a story about the local people who have gone down to help with the rescue efforts. one of the men is the older brother of someone with whom i graduated high school.

there are and will be so many local connections to this, now and in the coming months and years. i read the story, and didn't know what to feel. a swirl of relief, happiness, feeling proud, concern, worry that he might get hurt in the effort... *shakes head*

when i got home, it all caught up with me. the last week plus, the altar, the story.... i walked in the door and fell on my knees, crying. poor kitties didn't know what to do with me, as i knelt there, keening and sobbing, and begging for an explanation. i believe in a just and compassionate creator. and all i could do was cry and beg for a reason. how? how can a just and compassionate creator let this happen? how? how can that many lives be lost? how can it be that there is a reason for all this pain and grief?

and there was no answer.

which, i suppose, makes sense. if we could have easy answers handed to us, where would we find the purpose in life? it seems that we need to find our own purpose in life, because only then will it mean something. glib, facile, perhaps. but i believe that to be true. it will take a long time to find the meaning in this, tho.

for that reason, and many others, people have been frayed lately. sadly, it comes out in some stupid small ways sometimes. for example: i got a haircut today. i asked for a trim. she took 2 and 1/2 inches off. i can't see without my glasses, and it was too late by the time i realized what was happening. it's possibly the worst haircut i've ever gotten. and it's only hair. it will grow. but. but it left me in tears.

one of the things that has helped is comfort food. i need to eat, and i want food that makes me happy. pasta, starches, sugar... all good. i don't have the energy to cook, tho. so i've done whatever it takes to feed my face. tonight, i went to eat. that's the name of the place, not the act. it was good. i caught up with some friends, and ate well. sadly, one of the stories i heard from adam, the bartender, is that he's still waiting to hear about a friend who worked in one of the towers. he's trying to not think about it too much, because he doesn't want to lose his shit. there's nothing to do to help, other than hugs and keeping him and his friend in my prayers.

well, there are actually a few things. i've worked on mending fences with a few people in my life. it finally feels okay to approach those conversations. i haven't wanted even a whiff of conflict lately. takes too much energy, and there hasn't been any to spare. the last day or so, tho, it's been possible. and that's good. i've also been worrying about a friend who's in a really bad place, and i've been able to find the energy to offer him some small amount of support. so. at least there are some positive things.

yesterday :: tomorrow

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i think i've been tricked
steely grey days
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the appeal of the broken boy

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