A glass of Syrah on the morning of my 24th birthday at this bustling internet cafe on First in downtown Seattle. Rode the ferry over with Trevor at 7:20, a nice change to see all the worker rats sleeping in their cars, spread out on the ferry benches, not yet ready to greet the day with grumbling sobriety. Can't believe I've been treading this tired track Earth for twenty four years now, long years that flew past my window like lightning delivering me to today with thoughts of the morrow evident on my sweaty brow.
Nervous about my palpitating heart here in the buzz of culture counter to almost everything I believe but swarming with an addictive energy I cannot help but harness when I roam these roads. As if the life threads of all these people were woven right before my eyes, open to my clutching, inky fingers.
Today will be long indeed. Up Queen Anne to make breakfast for two hungover friends still held fast in the clutches of drunken slumber. Then hopefully a shower, some relaxation before the storm of tonight's unknown party. A club called the Rainbow. I will know virtually no one there so the ball's in my court. I can be anyone I desire. Should I be myself? Should I change who my self is? Is it okay to drink wine in the morning? Good for the heart, right? Maybe I should ask that chick in Africa with twins who lounges around the savannah all day drinking wine...
I bet she knows all the answers.
Stay tuned for of Pirate Papa's savage tales of exploration on city streets with whole forests in my pockets. Searching for something I had long ago, before I ever came to cities, before I knew about class hierarchies and politics and prostitution. And isn't life just a sad series of trying to attain that state of mind we are born with? That clean slate in all its innocent naive beauty. That blank canvas on which we paint our futures.
3 comments:
"And isn't life just a sad series of trying to attain that state of mind we are born with?"
No.
And if so, why bother trying? Ignorance is not the same as balance, even if "They" say it's blissful.
Wine: good or bad by quality of crafting and the nature of the hand of the imbiber, or pourer (depending upon their intentions and character).
Wine is an art of heritage and tool of libation. It is as any weapon. Make of it a respected implement of art and survival... or spill the life right out of you.
Happy Birthday Sky.
Cheers.
I think our happiness depends on acheiving a child's mind. Not the ignorance or lack of knowledge, but the eyes of a child that is seeing everything anew.
I love watching my son as he explores his world. He doesn't rehash his past, he doesn't worry about his future. He mind is free to study and enjoy the world that lies before him, right here, right now. He looks at a flower and sees its beauty whereas others may walk on by something so ordinary.
I, on the other hand, do worry about his future. My only goal is to allow him to savor his childhood as long as he can before he is bombarded with the realities of the 21st century.
There is never a bad time to drink wine. Ever. If, however, you are feeling a little bad about it, think of it as your duty. You are helping fuel the economy by drinking the fruit of our labour.
So drink on.
I'll have one for you on this side of the pond.
Cheers!
xxxx
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