A new month and Labor Day weekend, unofficial end of summer.
Trees already turning red, dark moving in by 7 in the
evening, a long slow twilight. Warm September rain, like the soft
touch of a trusted hand.
september 4
september 4
Dropping off one person at Logan and picking up another - a two hour
wait in between. Stop to get some coffee, two girls from Europe ask
the woman at the counter "Where can we smoke, please?" But we're
in the United terminal, so nothing is too far away or hard to figure out
from here.
Sad people saying goodbyes, happy people saying hellos, the rest
of us waiting and anticipating.
And then my sister's sweet face coming up the ramp.
september 6
september 6
My sister wants to be part of my life while she's here, a nice feeling,
so we take the train together into Boston. She shops while I work,
and we meet for lunch at the Rattlesnake. Music at
last - almost anything sounds good. Haven't heard any in public places
for a while - not at the airport, and no one singing in the train station in
a long time. Like a dimension missing with no music, one more.
The women where I work ask about yesterday's chemo, a thing that
would be far in the future for most of them, and are happy to hear that
everything is going so well. Smiles and hugs - good feelings
come down like rain in this building.
My sister and I stop at Starbucks, stopping to get some movies
on the way, a nice day, home by 5.
september 10
september 10
A drive home in enveloping darkness
A star straight ahead in the western sky, but maybe it's an airplane
A beautiful cd, improbably named after a film genre
september 13
september 13
Like swimming underwater for a few days. And then up out of the water,
a short swim to shore, and back to normal again. Small price, I guess.
I was glad to come back to the place that fascinates me, where I like
to spend time. Only now there are new doors and windows. I can go in
this one and out that one and back in again. It always feels right in here.
One time last year an image came to me. Of being swirling vapor, and of
entering and rejoining. It felt natural to be back there, like some artificial distance was
finally removed. september 15
september 15
Christopher's has been so much
more crowded lately. Finally realize that 250,000
students are back in Boston, missed when they aren't here.
Glasses of beer, a late dinner, a table near the
connecting door that leads into Toad, the club
next door. Early sets playing around 10. Music in the
air, coming through the door and walls, it feels surrounding. I like to feel music as well as hear it, like to know that others do too.
There's a gift of sharing music that has come into my life - transcending
in some way time and space, the things too big for me to overcome, that keep pieces of my heart wandering the world. I would miss sharing
music the way Boston misses students - I would just be a little empty.
september 18
september 18
Ran into a friend I hadn't seen in a while, but forgot she breaks the
social distance barrier - not that many people do. You keep moving
and they keep moving, until you come up against something solid
and, well, there you are.
Only a few weeks to go, and I don't want delays, so I am protective
of my immune system, carrying a little glass jar of that germ killing
stuff you rub on your hands everywhere I go. People close to me are
careful, so when we saw K on Saturday and she had a cold, we didn't
get to really hug. Arms have memory, and it's never the same when
you can't hold someone. Only a little more time before there won't be distance between me and people I love.
september 19
september 19
soundless, for now
when...
who...
words...
where...
with
with
with
with
want
september 20
september 20
table for one
The nice old guy at the T parking lot just shrugged at me this morning -
missed the last spot in the lot. On the other hand, not so bad to park
conveniently in Boston once in a while. So onto Storrow Dr. and into the city
Rummaged through the car for something to listen to. Nothing but an
old tape, but a desert island one - Placebo. Haven't heard it in a long
time - forget how much I like it. Carve your name into my arm, fuck with
my brain - not such gentle imagery, maybe, for a sweet lifechanging
process. You dissolve my boundaries - you let me in through yours. You are the one.
No sense leaving town after work - traffic from a Red Sox home game,
then the commute. Warm sun, a slow walk from one end of Newbury
Street to the other, browsing in the music shops - an Ed Kuepper for $2 -
dinner alone at Sonsie, door windows open to the street, people walking
back and forth, looking happy on such a nice day. Having a wonderful time -
just wish you were here.
september22
september 22
First day of fall. Celebrated by listening to the only 2 Fall
albums I have, Marshall Suite and A Past Gone Mad.
My wishing time to pass quickly has been working pretty
well, at least in my perception. I wonder if I'll be as successful
when I wish it to pass slowly.
water wave
september 24
september 24
Maybe this is how the mind or subconscious works, but it
seems to happen to me all the time.
I wake up in the middle of the night, 2 or 3 a.m., and realize my brain has been working out something that
had been puzzling me earlier - but now all seems quite
clear. I find myself smiling in the dark, and then I go
back to sleep.
september 25
september 25
Last chemo - no delays. In three weeks, no more chemicals in my
body, a very happy thought. I wished away this segment of time,
and I'm not unhappy I did.
Said goodbye at the local train station instead of at the airport. My
mother here for a visit, and driving the easy distance home from the
train a bit easier for her. I can drive again in the morning when the
meds wear off.
But they make it a bit hard to hold onto consciousness, much less
cogent thoughts. So off to bed and sleep again. I wish I could
remember my dreams. They seem so close and within my grasp
when I wake, but then they disappear.
wish within when wake
I have a small microphone, so perhaps I will be able to figure out sound.
It was pretty exciting to figure out images.
september 26
september 26
A few hours spent in French. The talk turns to dreams - les r�ves.
One English speaker is happy to have dreamed in French. Someone
says she dreams architecturally, as do I. Of spaces and rooms - familiar ones, and ones I know exist, but that I have never seen.
In my dreams, I often feel the presence of the person who should be
in that space, but who is just out of reach, who should be there but isn't.
It winds up being familiar and comforting - and aching all at once.
Hours have passed, a bient�t. Je t'embrasse, je t'embrasse - deux fois
in the French manner. J'aime toujours tes r�ves.
september 29
september 29
Finally caught a cold, but it doesn't matter so much now.
Still, head kind of foggy and brain a bit woozy - everything
in slow motion, and hard to put thoughts together, so just
a few words.
He's taking notes with his eyes. Saw Almost Famous last week, a
little disappointing, not sure why. Still, some good lines and good music - that loving camera shot of Pet Sounds.
please stay, I want to hear you play ... (pete droge)
![[table for one]](images/sonsie9-00.jpg)
