Some Kind Of Bliss
AN EPIDEMIC OF TREES


Tuesday, May 13, 2003  

On the road

A terrible day. Car is in the shop with a dying aorta or some weak vessel leading out of the boxy organs that make up my car's insides. I have no idea what I'm looking at when the mechanic lifts the hood, which probably explains why they dance for glee when I pull my car to the front door. Whoopee, yahoo. The sucker has returned, like the swallows to Capistrano.

Scrambled to take bus into work after rudely enlightening phone call saying I had to come in, faulty car no excuse. In an emergency, no one can fill in for me. On the plus side, found out I'm getting a raise and boss gave me ride home.

In a bad mood, a terrible mood. Fussy and angry. Created a remarkable display of immaturity playing Ocarina of Time with wife. Stomped off in a fit after some unsuccessful virtual combat. Hated myself because I could slay some pixels. Walked off to the computer room to pound out some work I brought home. Now I'm more angry with myself and nearly fatally embarrassed for my behavior. Saying "sorry" is getting to be a real grind. I can’t just have fun.

Need to get a loaner car from the repair shop, who will get to my car after peace come to the Middle East. My fault for not making an appointment, as if I knew I was going to spring a coolant leak.

Ever take a good look at antifreeze, that lime neon glow like alien blood pooling at your feet? It's sweat for my car, yet another fluid going through its veins. Oil, gas, brake fluid, trans fluid, antifreeze...a regular rolling factory of complex machinery under that hood. Makes me wonder it doesn't just disintegrate. Then again, of course I'd think that. To me, cars are magical devices. I have no idea how they work. Same with computers, but the faux-organic visual of fluid coursing through synthetic veins makes the car look more mysterious. In a way, it's alive. No wonder we grow attached to cars and can be a bit more cold-hearted with computers.

Also having trouble with my current mini-story. Been stressed out or too busy to write it. Plus, I need to spend time with my wife. Spinning plates get you every time. Had this idea that I'd take an hour out of work to jot down a few hundred words.... then I noticed the bright green leak under the car. Like the old saying goes, if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.

Forgot to mention, yesterday I dropped the cool chrome facade of a technophile and helped my wife plant some flowers and pull some huge-ass weeds that would give Triffids a run for their money. Playing with the dirt and putting something simple together as dirt and pansies as the sun glided down to the western sky was a delicate and profound experience. I was playing with elements of nature in a simple patchwork of nurturing soil and blooming color. No end-of-the-world fiction here. Just an ancient tradition of trying to make something grow.

A bit like writing a novel, I guess. Yet, much less stressful.

posted by skobJohn | 8:42 PM |
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