this is where i arrived, and how

Instead, I watch the rain from a warm tile floor, sipping coffee as trees lean from the wind.

I drove here with friends after tea. We walked through the weather to our van.

Beforehand, we window shopped. Televisions flickered red, mannequins donned lingerie. Today's latest appliances. Men stared or poked their heads into shops to see the game.

The new moon hid away and swans gathered with geese among ducks. Vacant boats hardly shifted along the canal walls.

Bicycles rang by with bells, or didn't, and nearly hit people a lot of the time.

Thomas guided Sasha into a parallel spot to let us out, and we stopped in at Dennins' place for a bite to tie us through the night. We didn't eat any more than snacks in our long day from a to b to c.

Previously, 80 minutes to find our cabins, two two story flats with bare walls but broad floors, then we unloaded our things.

The final stretch of the journey felt the longest as we sat in traffic and crept for one of the three hours of our trip. The roads grew dark after leaves tumbled between lanes.

Before leaving, we stopped in at a Brussels museum for a tour, but a group of guys joined me in the camera room and we took pictures in front of a green screen.

We visited the European Parliament, a famous bar, and a restaurant for lunch. On the way to the bar, I spoke with Celine and JB. At the bar I broke out, everyone lightened their moods, and we cut up cracking jokes and telling about ourselves.

We arrived to Brussels just before lunch time, after a long ride, about 6 hours, from Angers in 1a.m. We piled our bags into 2 vans, then our bodies, and drove off, listening to road-trip music, through the wet empty streets of Angers and onward toward Brussels.

I found a ride to Amsterdam but nowhere to sleep. From Angers, I gathered myself for the trip, nervously preparing to sleep on the streets of foreign and strange Amsterdam.

life is quite puzzling!

i go to amsterdam soon. i'm filled with feelings of nervous excitement. how will i pay? what will i do? why am i going? blah blah, but who cares? i am going, and that's good. it's good to be going. it's a similar feeling to when i spent a sunday afternoon loading my belongings into that grand ol' saturn i use to drive before leaving for portland the next day. i asked myself the same questions then, but dismissed them, the way i do tonight. why question myself? questions get in the way of decisions. now there's something to be said for practicality, but i'm a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kinda guy. yes, this can conjure up some trouble, but i like to live life in a reactionary way. figure it out as i go. in a way, i dig through all the pieces and, as the straight edges of this puzzle snap together, i recognize the pieces of the bigger picture, fasten them together, and start to discover the details. i've always enjoyed puzzles. life, however, is a puzzle with consequences. luckily, i accept these. on the other hand, i never finished a puzzle with more than 1000 pieces and i don't have to tell you, life has more than 1000 pieces!

cette soir

Tonight, after a dinner of salmon pasta with mushrooms, onions, and tomato, I spent the evening with a bottle of wine, joyfully teary-eyed watching Amelie.

This video, an example of why:



Just thought I'd let you know.

from Marseille

 

It tries a person when ideas are so broad,

so plenty, and thoughtless at times.

Reading extensive menus,

people say,

"There's so many choices, I just can't choose."

Many fish in the sea.

 Many things to be tried.

 

see The Guitarist

If I was just so bold to be this man,

brave enough to strum something

"Hide and Go Seek"

 

'...' is so much fun

because you get to guess!

You find out where is good to crouch

or which cubbies are too obvious to hide.

There's so much to discover!

 

For Example: 

A Muslim woman

bows her head and holds out a grateful hand;

 raises her eyes as someone passes,

knowing that, while he gave her some bits,

he didn't notice who she was.

 

Needle(ss) to say, you can hide anywhere.

Sometimes you don't have to try.

Sometimes you don't try and therefore

it's obvious where you are,

so people don't care.

These people desire a challenge.

 

Check the shadows for something darker,

preferably with a lid,

so that you can burst out when your seeker has given up.

 

 

Sometimes, clutter is great for hiding,

but be careful.

While it is useful, clutter can

distract the hider, much in the way

of fantastic antique shops,

allowing him to be found by his seeker.

When you have found that perfect spot,

never leave too soon, or the seeker

will spot you on his way out to search.

Likewise, if you stay too long,

you will be caught on his way back to base.

It is best to stay quiet and listen

for your cue

rather than peaking about.

Remember, your eyes are in the middle

of your head, whereas your ears

can perk around corners.

One last note for seekers:

Never, for any reason, give up.

You didn't search everywhere,

made obvious by the point that 

the hider has not been found.

If you shout, "I give up, where are ya?"

you lose the pleasure of

discovering.

Finally, don't be afraid to play

Hot-or-Cold.

This game helps beginner and intermediate

players of Hide and Go Seek

follow their ears

to weed out obvious spots

and bring forth his next potential hideaway.

the return

i went to the train in marseille at 5, walked on and found my place. the train pulled out on time and headed to take me to the point where i would transfer for the final leg back to angers. the ticket man came by and asked for mine. "its in my bag" i told him and stood up to go look through my things. by the time i finished rummaging for the ticket i knew wasnt there, the man had finished checking the coach and proceeded past me, answering his phone.


and so, i made it to marn la valle with not much trouble.

i waited thirty minutes for my next train, then got on. we pulled out as i found a spot and ticket men walked up and down the aisle. nervous, i pretended to be asleep. the man poked me. "monsieur," and he asked for the ticket.

again my act, went to my things, "oh my, its not here. wheres my ticket?" he told me to buy a new one, but i didnt have the cash for it. he asked if i had a credit card. i lied. so he billed my house.

he was helpful and told me that, in fact, that train was not my last, but i had another transfer and, when it came time, he pointed me in the right direction.

on this train no one checked tickets and the ride was smooth. on the other hand, the train ahead of us hit a pig.

we pulled to a stop at a small, closed train platform and mosied around to waste time. crisp autumn air does something to make stars shine brighter, and this time was no different. i questioned if that was in fact the milky way. surely not. we werent that isolated. but to have to guess yes or no is testament to the number of stars. the sky was brilliant. the train's heater kept a steady hum, the brakes let an occasional sigh, people gathered for small chit chat and after thirty minutes we kept on.

only 15 minutes later did i arrive to angers, cold and clear, stars brilliant, where i returned to my own computer, first time in a month, and had to remind myself how an american keyboard is laid out.

qwertyuiop
not azertyuiop
and asdfghjkl;
not qsdfghjklm

Sunday

Once, spring morning melted into afternoon. Drinking games lulled and after the sun rose, one by one, the party moved to the front lawn. A Fisher Price piano played on the broken couch outside; we spoke in hushed morning tones. One friend reached with a bedsheet behind her, arched with the sky, and greeted the sun.

Chorus hymns from across the street quieted for announcements, the sermon, and prayer requests after the offering. Baskets filled, hands raised, amens given, and everyone stood up. The breathing pipe organ ushered them slowly and they all congretated outside.

At our front lawn, someone brought out last nights leftovers refinished for today's brunch and the sheet was laid out for a picnic. Pink boots changed feet and a washed out bean can working as a water cup rounded the picnic like a Lazy Susan. Shirts came off for the sun.

An old man donned a thick mustache twirled upward at the ends and a grey fedora. He spoke excited, but not loud, glad to find such easily approachable people as he welcomed himself to our picnic with a smile.
<> Many great places 'round here, I tell ya. Any of you been near the hospital? There's a hill there and the sun sets jus' other side of a small pond down there at the bottom. <> Some smiled polite as they could, a couple of us shyly said no, while all eight stared in wonder. Why'd this man stop? When would he ask for something?

<> No? How 'bout the small forest there North side of town? Not much left, but its outside the gritty, you know? Quiet, <> yet no one had been.
Still blank and curious faces.

The man looked quizical. <> Well, I'll leave ya. <> He sauntered off, mumbling to himself so we could hear, <> Jus' so much great things 'round here, shame no ones been around to see 'em. <>
We continued our sluggish banter and smiled most of the time.

Ties loosened from fathers' necks, mothers said last goodbyes, and children chased each other, or stood shyly by, holding rolled up or otherwise proudly displayed colored Jesus stories. Then the road filled with motors as families went respective ways for Sunday dinner, then quieted as they ate.
Forks poked the plates and knives scratched as many mashed potatoes into as much of Granny's gravy as a mouth could hold. Green bean cassarole and chicken, sweet tea or Dr. Pepper?

Dinner finished and several relaxed. Granny tried to help with the dishes. The daughters, a husband, and the middle nephews gathered plates and glasses, put them in water, and an aunt rinsed them, fitting what would into the dishwasher. A neice wiped the table and a nephew staggard through the crowded bodies to wipe countertops. Conversation settled into old couches and the '78 television set showed the game just fine.

Our picnic finished. We each took our own dishes inside and piled them haphazardly beside the sink, among the clutter and mess of last nights party, to return to, together, after our walk.

Something to Send Home

A poem I'm working on I'd like to put out there is timidly called, Can't Get Out:


Eyes awaken to sunlight over coffee
  and go down,
    just as heavy as dawn,
  after the sun has warmed the blankets.
Sky's clear, but there's mostly blue shadows.
It may be windy out -
cardboard seals four broken windows after gails snapped
   the panes shut, which broke the glass
   that protected the flat where I live.

Little light, lots of noise.
The trees show the bliss of a cool breeze
  as they hog all the sunshine.

The boistrous, the reserved, the brave,
   congregate at the streets
   and share what they know,
   even if they dont know much.
Everyone has so much to tell.
     I cry,
"Why hide a pretty face?" and
  "What a strange hat,"
a buttery bowl of malt-o-meal warming my lap.