Day 1 of a Long Weekend

I didn't know what to do with myself. I walked through crowded city streets. Red lights everywhere told me to stop what I was doing. Go home. To what? Later, with a bowl of popcorn that tasted like chalk, I sat in front of the tube, and flipped the remote. What was happening on the box didn't catch my interest, but the dialogues reminded me of things we'd said. Like the times you asked me why I felt the need to smoke something before we went out with friends and I pretended not to hear you. I would ask you if you'd seen my black shoes, or if you knew where my jeans were. When the boyfriend in the sitcom played stupid, it was me I was seeing. When I thought back on what happened, you know, I realized I was thick-headed. I was blind to my own self-centeredness and to your needs. I thought I would be a fool to get so involved, to open up my heart and have it broken. Little did I know that the hurt experienced is the essence of being in love. All I expected was eventual jealousy and bitterness. I couldn't find the words to tell you and you probably wouldn't have believed me then if I had. I went to bed earlier than usual feeling as if I were the one who was hurt.

NLE at the POB

The job fizzled out and I did not even remark about it. I’m not suited to sitting in an office keeping track of other people’s numbers. Nobody, I am aware of, keeps track of mine. Two months ago I decided to treat myself to a cruise to the Mexican Riviera, had a blast escaping from the New York winter, but when I reluctantly returned I found only three pieces of junk mail in the mailbox. Two had Tom Lawrence’s name on them, and one was addressed to “Current Occupant.” That would be me.
I tried to write while I was onboard the ship, but the only thing I came up with, extensions to someone else’s story, went uncommented. I guess the writing was too much about me and the other person didn’t recognize herself, nor did anyone, it would appear.
Someone did sort of satellite position me and asked a friend if he were traveling incognito, but by the time he advised me, it no longer had the power to make me feel good. Oddly, upon observing my post, he told me he didn’t feel the need to comment either as he had been working toward the same end. I had to agree. He had started the tale which inspired the other writer, which inspired me… Perhaps I had taken too much liberty. We had only been acquaintances in a previous life, but I thought we had gotten to know each other enough to become friends. That might take another life. The whole thing was going in circles, not leading anywhere. Still, it’s there to be taken up at any time.
Jobless now, I think I will begin writing a novel. I don’t know enough about myself in a meaningful way. I feel like a tabla rasa, and that might be a good space to explore.

Symptomatic 6

I slept through the long bus ride north, having thought to map out my plan of action along the way, but quickly becoming overwhelmed by heat and exhaustion, then finding a comfortable reclining seat on the air-cooled bus, I gave in to sleep, which provided a pleasant dream of slow freefalling. In the morning, I was surprised to find Tuxtla much like Tapachula in tone and ambiance, having expected to find some dusty little pueblo because of my inexperience leading me to believe Mexico only had modern amenities in its resorts along the shorelines. I ate breakfast at a MacDonald’s, and after scoping out the place discovered there were plenty of little English schools where I might apply for a job with a promise to supply proper papers as soon as I could have them sent to me. I figured by the time I would actually have to deliver my documentation, I would be in a position financially to move on, and if I worked the situation out befittingly, I could be in Mexico City in about three months. Everything changed one afternoon three weeks on while I was relaxing at Starbucks enjoying a latte after successfully talking my way through a session with a group of teenagers eager to learn some American slang, when a familiar looking young woman passed by, and looking at me quizzically for a moment, said, “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” Preposterously, I offered, “Why don’t you have a seat, and we can see if that is true?”