flat land blues

9.5.14

I slept in later than usual, almost seven thirty, acceptable on a Friday, and had my usual breakfast in order: a glass of juice, this week orange and pear, followed by a yogurt, a bowl of cereal, a cup of coffee and a packaged slice of fruit bread with a small stream of honey.  The news followed for an hour and then a book.  This week I read a Grisham novel, ‘A Painted House.’ I had the ceiling fan on before it was too hot and turned on the sitting room air conditioner.  I washed a small load of darks and clipped them on the line I set up a year ago on the kitchen terrace.  This is a typical day and has been typical since I came here a year ago.  The landlord gave me passwords for the router that hangs on a wall in the hall outside room four but the connection is too weak.  Aside from CNN and BBC I am unplugged. 

I haven’t felt too good since I returned to the desert a week ago.  Not even noon and I’ve made three trips to the loo.  I am thinking the grapefruit seed extract produced in Germany might not be agreeing with me so today I’ll hold off.  Nasal congestion isn’t too bad as it was for the last five days, I think swollen glands pushed hard downwards and spread pain indiscriminately throughout my teeth. Only the remains of a lower left molar are a daily reminder that one day I will have to see a dentist.  On this day he, or she, will see at least five other areas of concern and I will ask if a total implant is possible.  Nitrous Oxide, please?  Is that still used?  Surely it is here, where the industry is free from regulations and malpractice. 

Once the sun no longer comes directly through the tinted sliding window I pull the curtain away and do I see the road to Muscat.  Fridays see few people out until men begin their walk to the mosque for the weekly noon service with a sermon.  Sometimes I’d like to know what the Imam is telling the gathered, I know it isn’t vitriolic, no one leaves in anger, no one leaves looking for infidels to string up.  Allah is a God of peace and mercy, Allah is always here listening, eager to help the sick and the poor.  “Is Allah eager to end war?  Tell me, learned one, is Allah concerned at all mankind isn’t listening and the poor and the sick and the displaced and the dead continue and thanks to mankind’s technological know-how the entire world knows how bad life is for so many?  Does anyone smell the contradiction when a believer thanks Allah for all the blessings he has received knowing a hundred others have nothing?  How can I be thankful, and grateful, and happy, when I think of so many who suffer through no fault of their own?  I have a problem with this.

9.6.14

10.09am

Having a feasible plan brings a moment of peace, innate restlessness is put aside, even if for a moment.  I am convinced one more year will be it and I have told a few so, I’ll look for work elsewhere on the peninsula and if nothing is lined up I will return to Detroit with enough money to buy a car and enough for rent for a year and we will make do.  The last two times I returned I wound up with nothing, how will this be different?  It will be. 

Maybe I should get a job and take classes that will get you what you want.  Yes, what do you want?  It’s not an existential question, I know what I want but I need help, I can’t do it without help.  I’m not afraid to admit I need help.  I am embarrassed at 51 I am not where I want to be doing what I want to do which is to use these ‘gifts’ I have because I’m not using them constructively.  I write the occasional blog, I take the occasional photo, for what .  What am I doing here?  If I fail at least I can say I tried, how hard did you try, I’ll ask myself.  Everyone’s getting older, time is not my friend. 

This morning I washed two blue shirts and my new size 36 khaki trousers, hanging outside to dry, the sitting room air conditioner is on, Saturday is shaving six days of facial hair off, tomorrow back to the office.  Five more weeks before classes begin, I have been given an afternoon schedule which will change my routines completely.  With no car walking back to this flat at night will be easier and can be done for 16 weeks.  And then another 16 weeks and that’ll be it.  There will be the usual lot to leave here, getting money for the odds and ends accumulated isn’t necessary.  It’s not about the money I’ve always said, unless I return to the states without work. And this is part of the plan, to not have work waiting for you? 

Somewhere in the time line I lost my way, oblivious to the dangers one has without ambition.  What motivates is the minimum requirement for staying alive and what is that.  There is a sliver of hope but for what. 

5.07pm

A moon rises in the east, two days it will be full, ten more full moons and I’ll be moving elsewhere.  Where I don’t know yet, if I am diligent and play my cards right, I’ll be where I want to be, not where I need to be.  A year ago I sweat in anticipation among the homeless and drug ruined in Rochester, expecting and hoping I’d be where I am now and already it’s time to consider another home, another job. 

I finished the Grisham novel quickly, a seven year olds narrative.  I started ‘The Goldfinch’ but the fading light and a light font left my eyes tired.  I am a sucker for these acclaimed books, the Luminaries wasn’t as good as I expected it’d be, perhaps that was my fault.  The astrological outline and the mystery didn’t coalesce, nevertheless I finished it, more out of curiosity.

Sometimes I wonder if some low ranking clerk at the CIA or the White House is assigned to read my crazy blog.  For five weeks I tried to come up with a new idea to end the fighting between Israel and Palestine and a new interpretation of the ancient texts would have to be considered.  For the last two days a variety of experts on television have noted the need for Muslims to reconsider interpretations, and it isn't enough to call terrorists atheists, right?  Of course the experts aren’t Muslims but it seems strange doesn’t it? 

It is impossible to pick up where I left off.  On the mountain in a heightened state of consciousness the words poured forth and now, in the flattest of lands I think of nothing but staying inside, waiting to be hungry again, waiting to sleep again.

Lord, how can I be happy and not feel selfish about it?  Only by tuning out the miserable.  Turn off the television, immerse in a joyful project.  A question, John.  Do you wish for acclaim and oblivion?  Like the author who writes the book that changes everything and then withdraws somewhere to a place in obscurity, sure enough with enough money to do it.  Sounds selfish but it isn’t, give the book to the masses, a gift to the longsuffering. 

Any questions?