I don’t work for a home improvement store. This evening, for a few minutes, I did though. After getting electrical boxes, I wandered the store. A man was eyeing the work tables. Because I’d done the same thing before, I said, “You’re thinking about using that as a kitchen table, aren’t you?” He looked at me, surprised. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m thinking. But I don’t have a truck to haul it.”
“This store rents a flatbed truck with raised sides fairly cheaply. They’ll help you load it. Buy it before you change your mind. I made that mistake.”
He didn’t take it wrong. In fact, his eyes lit up. “Sold!” he said. “My wife is going to love this. She loves this sort of industrial look. I’ll get it as her birthday present.”
I smiled, imagining him showing up at his house with a work table for the kitchen. And imagined a wife who’d love to receive that kind of gift. He already won the game, though he might not realize it.
I walked out of the store and stood in the parking lot, watching the advancing rain come toward me. When I got back to the apartment, I changed clothes. As the rain thundered in, I stood outside and let it baptize me in the way that only a good rain can. It was a chilly rain but it didn’t seem to lessen my enthusiasm.
After doing a lot of painting today, I cleaned. Because I’m a minimalist at heart, I also like to combine and discard. I headed out to the dumpster with my arms loaded. A black SUV drove in next to me. As I was throwing things into the lovely dumpster, population 13,436 flies, two of the three people in the SUV exited and walked over to me talking. It didn’t occur to feel like they were up to no good. “What’s up with your shirt, man?” one of them asked me. They stopped two feet away from me. “I sewed it that way. It’s custom. I call them ripshirts. If it tears, you just sew it again with another wild color.” They looked at each other. “Dude, you should totally market that sh*t. That is dope, for sure.” I laughed. “They take a lot of time to make by hand.” One of them said, “Well, then charge a lot. That’s one of a kind.” Though it’s not germane, I should say that they were young black guys. They both fist-bumped me.
As they walked toward a downstairs neighbor, I said, “You should totally bang on the door and shout ‘POLICE!.’ Both of the guys burst out laughing. The guy waiting in the SUV stuck his head out, laughing uproariously at my comment. One of the guys said, “Yeah, for sure, next time we’re going to do that.” I laughed. “Next time? Do it at every house you go to. People say they want excitement in life. Give it to them.”
I love my ripshirts and that they take so much time to make. That’s three times today someone has complimented me unexpectedly on my wild sense of color and creativity. I needed it today, believe me. Four, if you count the clerk who loved my brooch that I made yesterday. I took it off and gave it to her. She gladly accepted it and put it on her shirt immediately. I don’t know her name. I’d like to think it was Joy or Happy.
Love, X
P.S. I love random moments and I’d like to thank the universe for this one. My head was starting to be a cyclone of anxiety. I apologize for the selfies.
When I came home, I let the cat prowl the deck as I painted two metal birds. The sky darkened and the wind grew a bit chillier. As the traffic increased due to the hour, I could hear the approaching train as its horn crescendoed. It was the Arkansas & Missouri excursion train, its middle cars dotted with observing faces. I waved like Forrest Gump. This time, several people returned my wave.
Went I went inside, someone wrote me a message through my blog: “I hope you don’t mind. I made a poster out of your picture after you posted it the second time. There’s something about it that just hits me and reminds me to stop worrying about being so weird.” I smiled as I read the message. What a small world it is, where I can make a picture and have it resurface periodically on the internet. They went on to mention another picture, similar in composition, that they have printed in a smaller frame. I’ll put it below the sign-off.
I’m going to go back to the landing with Güino and watch the slow rain dampen the October air. And I’ll think about the importance of not hiding my light under a bushel, even as time pours increasingly fast into an invisible funnel.
Love, X
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“It’s not just about language; it’s about the futility of not expressing your thoughts.” – X
I walked a few times today. Though the sun beat down on me for the third walk, it was a beautiful day. Work is speeding toward me. Walking along a side street not far from the trail and Gregg, I saw what I knew to be someone’s wallet. This was one of the slim-design ones, with a narrow band to contain cards along both sides. Because of the volume of people passing through, I knew that the wallet had recently been dropped, most likely out of a cyclist’s pocket. This is the third wallet I’ve found this year. In both of the previous cases, I had to investigate their whereabouts on the internet. Both owners were very pleased that I’d found them.
Today’s wallet had a bit of cash, a driver’s license, as well as the person’s social security card, and two credit cards. Luckily for me (and for the owner), an internal slot had a couple of business cards. I called the number on the business card because the last name emblazoned on it matched the driver’s license surname.
When he answered, I said, “This isn’t a car warranty call! Do NOT hang up.”
“Okay,” he said. “Good pitch. What are you selling?” He was half-laughing.
“Car warranties,” I said, and laughed. “But no, really, if you’ll describe your wallet, I’ll tell you.”
He was silent for a couple of seconds. “Thank god. You found it?”
“Yes,” I think so. He described the wallet perfectly. Just to be funny, I said, “One last question: why do you have a punch card for Chuck E. Cheese in your wallet?”
“What? I don’t think so.” He was perplexed. I felt a flash of guilt for amusing myself, even as I laughed again.
“Where did you find it?” he asked.
“Over near Poplar and the trail. I assumed you lost it while riding your bicycle over here?”
“No, I think I left my wallet and drink on the toolbox of my truck and drove around with it. I can’t believe it fell there!” He laughed. “I don’t ride a bike. I’d crush the rims.”
We both laughed.
“If you can meet me right now, I’m going to walk past the Pack Rat Outdoor Center in a few minutes. Is that okay?”
“Yes, of course, thank you.”
A few minutes later, I stood in the parking lot of the store and watched the pond in front of the beautiful building. It’s a serene corner to observe.
He pulled in. I walked up to the vehicle and reached in and shook his hand as he thanked me. We exchanged a few pleasantries and jokes.
“You can get a bicycle you know. Go to Lewis And Clark and ask for a deal for a beginner.”
He smiled. “I just might. What can I give you as a reward?”
“Reward? No. Just pay it forward and that’s cool.”
“Do you want a ride to your house?” he asked me.
“Nah, that’s why I don’t need a bike. I walk a lot.”
“I’m glad you do,” he said. “Otherwise, I would have lost the money, the credit cards, and probably my identity.”
His name is Dan.
I’m going to take another walk now and enjoy the darkening, cloudy night. I hope it is as exquisite as last night’s stroll. \
And I hope you’re warm and loved wherever you are. If I find your wallet and call, don’t be alarmed by my car warranty joke.
Reluctantly, my ex-wife Dawn decided it would be better for Güino the tuxedo cat to come to stay with me in the apartment. We adopted him from the Springdale Shelter when he was very young. When I first moved here, even though he’d never been here, I walked in the door expecting him to run to me. When I lived in Springdale, it was a ritual. He’d run up and I’d scoop him up and hold him like a baby. He’s 13.5 years old now and weighs 9.9 lbs. I already ate tuna for supper so that he could have the juice. It’s a gentlemen’s agreement we’ve shared for his entire life. Dawn gave me about 12 packets of treats, too. Güino trained us to dispense treats constantly.
The picture of me is on the way over to my old house. I hadn’t been there since I left. I put on my cat and fishbowl brooch for good luck. When I went inside, Güino looked at me strangely. It’s true I probably look a lot different. It’s likely he thought I was gone forever. I picked him up and held him like a baby. I didn’t take a picture when I left because I was in tears.
Dawn gave up a lot letting me have the cat. She was concerned people would think poorly of her for letting me take Güino. No one should think that, and not just because I’m the selfish and lucky recipient. If something happens to me, he should go back to her. I’m not being maudlin; surgery refreshed my memory of how easily any of us could go without any warning.
Güino crescendoed his caterwauling as I drove.
It was surreal releasing him into the apartment.
He’s still anxious. If I sit still, he stretches out near me, waiting for another rub. I rolled him with high-quality lint rollers and a fur brush.
If I keep petting him, he might go bald.
We’d be twins.
Thanks, Dawn. I’ll try to keep him safe and loved.
“The internet does NOT make people stupider. It gives the stupider people more reach. And you’re one of them, X.”
Hmmm…
I think this person doesn’t like my writing.
I wonder why they keep reading?
On the same day the above fan wrote to me, another friend reached out to tell me how much I’ve been on her mind, and how much she appreciates reading the wide range of things I share. I was touched. As with so many others, I had no idea she read much of my meanderings.
To my friend who reached out, thank you. Kind words are like sunshine on a cool October morning.
PS For those who reached out privately and shared their stories in response to my post “Addiction Road,” thank you. I knew I wasn’t going to get a lot of direct engagement. Those affected by addiction often can’t find a way to succinctly bare their souls. But I can say it is liberating to yield. It’s the only way for most of our problems and mental health. We all share the same humanity, whether it is beautiful moments or debilitating pain.
Last night, I was out walking on Gregg Avenue later in the evening. Someone leaned out and shouted, “Hey X! You a**hole!” as they laughed. I couldn’t see who it was, but I waved enthusiastically. Only friends shout like that. It brightened my mood for a moment; it was much needed. The walk not only served as exercise but also as an escape. Like most escapes, it didn’t work; most tend to bring whatever’s in your head along for the ride. I envy those who seem to be able to deflect their hearts when necessary.
This morning, way before the sunrise, I got out of bed and walked the streets again within five minutes of arising. Reaching the end of the parking lot, I saw a man and a woman walking, the woman ahead of the man, her socked feet shuffling awkwardly. There’s a lot of questions in my head from that scene. I tried to imagine what events transpired to lead them into the early morning dark, one of them without shoes. They plodded along, devoid of any energy or spark. I soon outpaced them and left them far behind. They were on my mind, though.
Sundays mornings, I see evidence that people didn’t use their best judgment. Near Fossil Cove brewery, I noted an excessive number of beer cars and errant liquor bottles. A block down, someone’s ornate mailbox laid on the ground in tatters, probably from a speeding drunk driver approaching carelessly from the side road. On the opposite side of the road, I stopped and snapped a picture of the Banksy girl painted on the side of a railroad control box. The disparity of the message amidst the realities of the morning gripped me. . Yesterday, as I exited my apartment, a neighbor said, “Hey X, I hope you don’t me asking, but my mother-in-law LOVES your blue lantern. Could you make her one?”
I paused, and said, “No.” I watched the woman try to gauge me. She failed.
I took the blue solar lantern made from an inverted hummingbird feeder and handed it to her. “No, but I will give you this one.” She smiled in surprise.
“Wait,” I told her. I pulled my other metal silhouette lantern from the hanger and handed that to her as she neared her door. “Take this, too.” I explained the rechargeable batteries and how to use them long-term.
She was so happy with the unexpected gifts. Though I was now left with no solar lanterns on my landing, I was happy, too. That’s not nothing.
It’s entirely a coincidence that I’d ordered two more sets of fairy lights on Wednesday. I love how the universe sometimes surprises me. Two incidents yesterday remind me that my neighbors are watching me in curiosity to see what projects I’m up to. . Later in the morning, a neighbor headed out to walk to his job. The skies were ominous and ready to pour. “Hey, how about I give you a ride to work?” He accepted, and I spent a few minutes not only doing him a solid but was able to connect with him as we drove to his workplace and talked. . Other parts of my day were both sublime and tumultuous. The dichotomy of these days never fails to surprise me and sometimes alarms me. I understand that my intelligence often fails me when I try to assimilate the lessons and use my experience to guide me. My experience in life isn’t a detailed roadmap. Like anyone else, my heart sometimes overrides the clear path in front of me.
But I walk on, literally and figuratively.
“There is always hope,” is a truth. Equally valid is that we have to confront the day with the practical tools and options available. We have hope for the future but also must live the minutes as they come. Instead of revising these few words, I’ll post them ‘as is,’ much in the way that life speeds along in front of us.
Love, X . P.S. I’m adding a paragraph. As I posted this, the putt-putt of a moped outside drew my attention. A man stood by the dumpster, looking for treasure in the mountain of trash. I walked out and crossed the parking lot. “I’m the neighborhood weirdo,” I told him. He looked at me cautiously. Though I don’t have much money (now more than ever), I handed him a $20 bill. He said, “God bless you!” He smiled like the sunrise. “I am, if only I can find ways to see it,” I told him as I walked back to my apartment. I didn’t look back at him, because as happy as he was by the gift, I think he was about to get emotional. .
A gaggle of young runners made their way up Poplar toward the traffic light. I was outside near the crosswalk measuring for an address plaque I’m making for the apartment simplex. The last runner was struggling to catch up. “You won’t always be last,” I told him as he crossed Gregg. “I hate running!” He said. I laughed. “You won’t hate it the day you leave all of them behind you, though.” I gave him the thumbs up.
Around 8 last night, I heard weird popping noises. I didn’t think much of it. I was standing outside on the deck. Waking up this morning, I discovered that an unidentified idiot shot into the apartments by the trail on Poplar Street. Automatic gunfire, too. I can see the apartments and trail from the crosswalk outside the apartment. Y’all can scoff, but I wish I’d taken a walk last night. There’s no better adventure story than gunfire after sunset. Have you noticed that almost no nincompoops get up at 5 a.m., drink a cup of coffee, and start shooting? We need a better class of hooligans in Fayetteville! Also, bullets are expensive.
I bought four pieces of bacon in the work cafeteria this morning. (No, I’m not authorized to return to work yet. At least not PAID work.) It’s been a year since I had bacon. Bacon salt has been my salvation in the interim. When I got back to the apartment, I made lettuce and bacon wraps. I may have blacked out with pleasure for a moment.
I also left a surprise brooch for someone today. Nothing says, “Good morning!” as inexplicably as a surprise brooch. Today, I’m wearing a spectacular fleur-de-lis brooch that I found at Peace At Home. I’d not thought much about the symbol until recently. Like so many symbols, it’s an ancient one. When I chose the name “X,” I thought I was simplifying things. Lord, the number of things “X” can signify is astonishing, even though it is just a single letter. It’s nice having a name that looks the same regardless of direction.
Seeing someone’s ASL post this morning made me realize that people around me didn’t know I was saying “Please” a lot of the time. It may look like I’m rubbing my heart. I learned it from a deaf man who attempted to work at Cargill years ago. “Please” and “Thank you” are both great visuals, even in normal conversation – not that I’m sure what that is. People running away from me with their palms clamped firmly over their ears give me the wrong impression.
I finished the address plaque for the apartments. I used reflective numbers. And I couldn’t quite bring myself to NOT put a little bling and beauty on there in the form of a dragonfly. I also installed a nice solar light above it, either to illuminate the reflective numbers I chose – or so that the idiots shooting automatic weapons will have something other than my ass to aim at if they find themselves with an oversupply of bullets.
Other: * While chatting with my case manager, I did offer to re-write my surgical report. It needs a plot twist and a little bit of pizzazz. And/or humor and brevity: “Patient failed to notice my approach as I used a #11 blade to gut him. We found a herniation near the appendix but this box of Cracker Jacks did not have a surprise.” * A random internet person read my post about Tammy’s weight loss: “You have no idea how seeing you and your friend have motivated me. I think I have your incremental idea in my head now. I’ve already lost ten lbs, just by deciding to do a few small things each day. Such as choosing differently, doing exercises every hour while at work, and keeping my mouth shut as much as I can. You’re right. Food can’t get in there if it isn’t open!” * Another person wrote me and asked me if this quote is mine: “Saying you aren’t photogenic is kinda like saying you’re better looking than all available evidence.” No, but I wish I had. It’s pithy and logical. * A Bit Of Daily Motivation: “Have you stopped to think that somewhere there’s a tree growing that might one day become your coffin?” *
P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 