Along those lines, I'd been thinking all weekend of trying to track down motorcycle boy. I somehow felt that if I could just locate him in time and space, I would feel more at ease.
Today I'm feeling less - needy? about it, maybe because I gave in fully and completely to my urge to find him yesterday, and wandered wherever my gut suggested until I was tired and had to rest.
I was so exhausted from lack of sleep the night before (Monday night), and from having waited to eat til I got just the right thing :-) Which was great - the breakfast, I mean - and fed me in all kinds of ways - not only was the cook guy insanely attentive about the food, the cafe itself was so peaceful - beautiful view, and the whole place was fresh, clean, tastefully decorated and quiet (except for the music, which I asked to have turned down a bit).
The dining area was open on one side to the bike path, and I sat at a table right along that edge, blissfully roasting in the sun, nodding off a little as I waited for my food. Bicyclists, runners and other peds zipped, trotted and strolled by, and I felt myself being 'examined' more than once by several attractive male passersby :-) Ego, ego :-)
Finally the food came - he'd warned me that it'd take a while for poached eggs, but I was willing to wait, because poached is my favorite.
And it was worth the wait. Everything was perfect: The eggs were soft but not runny, firm enough to spoon up without losing any of the yolk (which is the only part I eat). He'd sprinkled some paprika on the eggs to make them pretty, and the bacon was perfectly crisp, not soggy. He'd added a little cup of sweet red grapes on the side, and a sprig of Italian parsley. Beautiful! Pride in his work. I had to wonder if he cooked that carefully for everyone? Or maybe it was just slow and he could really focus on that one meal. Whatever the case, it certainly made me feel pampered.
I slowly savored the meal, the restaurant gradually emptied til I had the place to myself, watching the people go by, eating slowly, as I like to, gazing mindlessly out at the sunny sky.
There was the little thrill of anticipation as I began to imagine looking for motorcycle boy's daytime hangout, wandering up and down the piers randomly, letting my feet find their way. I've always had a sort of romantic fascination with that part of town - the docks, the fishing boats - a parallel universe all its own, never touching my own (except at the fish market).
I finally finished my meal, and strolled out into the luxuriously decadent afternoon to begin my wander.
I went wherever my heart/gut/feet/soul led me - up one gangplank and down another, to a park bench; to a builder of luxury yachts where, off to one side, an ancient, rusting-out old float stood in a quiet patch of water, and, lo and behold, a heron stood there, basking in the sun, possibly searching the water for potential lunch.
I finally got tired enough (and exhausted the search possibilities enough) to want to lie down. I wandered over to the park, climbed the hill, and collapsed on a sunny slope in a patch of clover. Just dropped right where I stood when I got to a place that was empty and quiet, sheltered and with the right angle to the sun.
I lay there for a while, not quite able to nod off because of a woman nearby calling repeatedly to her dog. But she was far enough away for it to be a minor annoyance, and I dozed.
Finally I got too hot and had to move on, and I didn't want to get a ticket (I'd parked in a two-hour spot, and had been wandering so long that I had no idea what time it was, though I figured I was probably safe because the sun was still pretty high up.)
So I wandered back, finding some logs to balance on along the way, and getting comments from various people watching - one guy said, "Cartwheel!" Yeah :-) It was about all I could manage to focus on simply balancing, what with all the people going by. One woman, getting into her car applauded and said, "It's hard to walk on those!" Felt like I was surrounded by cheerleaders. I'm sure the perfection of the day had something to do with it - everyone I encountered seemed to be in that utterly relaxed state you get when you've had a good meal and you're sitting, warm and full and comfortable, not quite asleep but just enjoying the peaceful feeling of satiety. (Hm - everything comes back to feeling 'fed' properly :-)
I finally got back to my car, but still wasn't ready to give up any part of that beautiful day to being inside a smelly old laundromat, so stalled a little longer by walking a few blocks up the hill to another cafe I've gone to a few times for Wednesday evening jam sessions. I'd only ever been there at night, and the place was filled with instruments from wall to wall - guitars, mandolins, a few fiddles, the occasional banjo. I wanted to see what it looked like in the daylight.
I got there just as the girl was locking up for the day, her shift had ended - the cafe apparently closes in the late afternoon, then opens again for the evening a few hours later.
But she gave me a flyer for the Wednesday night jam - something she'd said made me think maybe the jam wasn't happening this week, and I'd been planning to go, since I've missed the last few weeks. I wanted a phone number to call the guy who runs it, to make sure I didn't make the drive up for no reason.
***
Finally it was cooling off and dropping into evening, and the laundromat required that the last loads be put in by 7 pm, so I'd stalled long enough.
As I did my laundry, I escaped periodically back out to the car to get away from the detergent smell, and found myself looking, again, at the cafe where I'd had breakfast. I didn't really think about it when I parked the car, but it occurred to me that the guy who'd fixed me breakfast could probably see my car out that window, and I wondered if he thought I was 'stalking' him, or something. Because I'd left my car on the OTHER side of the cafe for two hours when I was off on my wander, then parked it in the laundromat parking lot for several more hours. If the guy was observant at all (and it seemed like he was) and noticed my car, he might think he was being - what's that detective word for it - watched, observed, can't think of the right word.
Anyway, the funny thing was, I figured they'd gone home for the day at some point, because it was past 6, which was when they closed.
As I was getting in and out of my car, running back and forth with various items - coins, vinegar, soap, etc., repeatedly forgetting things and having to run back and get them because I didn't want to leave anything unattended in the laundromat - I noticed a guy pull up in a light blue station wagon about fifty feet up the street. I didn't pay any attention at first, but then the guy just sat there. I kind of noticed him, but didn't really think anything about it, until I went across the street to the Subway to get a chocolate chip cookie, and noticed that the guy looked a bit like the morning's cook. I couldn't really tell because he was too far away, but as I got back in my car to eat my cookie, he closed his door and went around to the driver's side and started to drive away (he'd been sitting on the passenger side with the door open), and as he passed me I tried to see if it was him, but still couldn't tell. Maybe if I go to that restaurant again I'll ask if he drives a light blue station wagon.
Life is weird - people never seem to be what you think they are. I don't know if I just don't get out enough, or my lack of trust has made me too much of a hermit, but I feel like I really have no idea of what's considered 'normal' these days in terms of - well, stalking. I mean, I don't even like the term, because I think it's overused, often used to describe completely harmless behaviors, which takes away from its TRUE meaning, which is something dark, sinister, and scary, at least to *my* mind.
Eventually the laundry saga ended, and I got in the car and headed home.
I stopped at the library to see if I had any books or videos, and one of the women who works there, who knows me well, had my books all ready for me when I went up to the counter after checking my email and printing a couple of things off the computer.
I started to ask her for my books, then realized she already had them sitting there in a pile at the terminal and was entering my info into the computer. She seemed a little flustered, and I teased her about being so fabulously efficient. She said, "Well, I got them when I saw you come in the door, but then you didn't come to the counter right away!" I teased her some more, "Do I have to do everything the same way every time?" "Yes!" she said, "And you're early, too! You're not supposed to be here until 8:50 or so!" (I have, in the past, often come in as close to closing time as humanly possible and shaved it in just under the wire, which amused me and which they (the staff) seemed to come to expect after a while. I would zoom in, grab my books while somebody would pull my videos off the shelf, check out, and be in and out in under two minutes flat. For a long time it was my preferred way to do it, though now I've become a bit more comfortable with the place, I'll tend to hang out there a bit longer. (Even though the staff is friendly, the patrons are often a bunch of noisy, rude kids after school, or there are a bunch of non-English-speaking folks, often Russian or Somali, and I would get a bit overwhelmed, feeling like *I* was the intruder in another country. Not that I'm saying they're 'intruding' it's just - well, it feels awkward. Because they tend to travel in packs, and I'm always by myself, so there's this feeling of potentially being ganged up on. Thought the staff would certainly come to my rescue if I needed help, but sometimes the atmosphere can be a bit stressful. At least for *me*)
*Link to a chapter from Feeding Your Demons: http://www.hachettebookgroup.com/books_9780316013130_ChapterExcerpt(1).htm
And an excerpt:
In mythology the dragon often guards a secret treasure. Through feeding our demons and transforming them into allies, we discover our own treasures that have been hidden by our preoccupation with doing battle. As it turns out, when liberated, the energy of the demon that has been locked in struggle is the treasure. Feeding our demons also makes us less of a threat in the world. When we become aware of our demons and offer them an elixir of conscious acceptance and compassion, we are much less likely to project them onto others.
No comments:
Post a Comment