There are no pictures to accompany this post, only random thoughts I've meant to explore in further depth- singular moments so brief and beautiful that only experiencing them can emboss their significance.
Today I stood in line for coffee and watched a young man pull up his sleeve and glare at his watch impatiently. The line was long and slow, the cashiers were saturated with (personally) infuriating retail etiquette. It was mid-afternoon and the shop was full of middle-aged women gossiping, an elderly woman scribbled furiously into a notebook, the posture of a pair of ancient men dissolved in the mahogany chairs as they debated politics. But it was this man, in his moment of hurried impatience, who reminded me that I couldn't recall the last time I'd seen someone check the time on their wrist. In some aspects, I believe cell phones may have ruined everything. The intricate beauty of a wristwatch has long since been forgotten. Horologists are now wild-eyed sub-characters in science fiction plots. They reveal a clue to move the storyline along but carry no further significant value. It's a tragedy that the brass gears and tiny silver screws, the delicate glass placement and design forethought have become an antiquated art form. From now on, I will wear watches.
A few nights ago I was driving past Todos Santos Plaza at dusk when a balding man halted his bicycle in the middle of the crosswalk, surveyed the crowd of anxious rush hour participants and then popped and rode a wheelie 10 feet to the sidewalk. That is the sort of childish foolishness that I miss in my daily life. Perhaps he just wanted to test his capabilities? Maybe he was showing off? Whatever the reason, I too live for 10 seconds or 10 feet of silly showmanship. I would've offered him a standing ovation had the light not turned green.
The full moon is so bright from my sheltered haven that you can nearly walk through its penetrating beams and feel as if you've bathed in Christmas lights and luck. Orion darts from the front porch to the back within a couple of hours as Jupiter's gaseous glow rages only a little further South.
In Concord, everything is in slow motion. Expressions freeze. Walks are paced. Life takes longer to experience when you're attempting to observe every detail.
I realized tonight that I don't fall in love with pretty faces or a certain "type" of woman. I fall in love with qualities, attributes, potential. The positivity in those concepts makes a woman most beautiful.
On my way to Ikea I would've picked up the stranded motorists walking along the highway but it was 9 a.m. and she was wearing 5 inch gold sequin heels. Her companion had a hood so dark and deep I couldn't see his face. I don't trust hoods or sequins.
I love that there are places here with names like "Upper Happy Valley," "Blueberry Court" and "Rising Dawn Lane." I have to believe that the neighborhood developer smiles at the morning dew and steam rising off the mountaintops at dawn, just as I do, and feels that this may be where heaven and Earth overlap.
Of course, these are just my thoughts- little notes I take during the day to try and remember that when I pay attention, the world is a fascinating place. The work week is inundated with projects that thrill me to the core, and then there's homework that's already begun to accumulate. C'est la vie. "Aimer, travailler et souffrir," as Kerouac would say.
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