The Blind Man Society

I was writing for quite a while and I’m sitting here at remote offsite location number 1 right now.  The morning sun is slanting in, and I feel like a male Ying Ying sitting here with my Tiger stripes.  I’m listening to Xanadu by RUSH and thinking about what I’m going to write next. 

My whole idea for this book involved the martial art Dim Mak.  I was going to be struck at some point by the pool – probably by an angry boyfriend with all the very pretty girls there in bikinis, and then work my way through the ten buildings at different times of day to heal – though whether it was my pride, or an actual Dim Mak strike, I cannot say.

So, instead, I have a cat on my shoulder perching, and I’m back to it.

I was sitting outside this morning at 4am, playing my wooden flute while the bats flew around me hunting.  I always like watching them, and playing for the kids.  At this age, they are still learning to use their radar, let alone fly straight, and they seem to spend most of their time playing and screwing around instead of hunting.  From the barrage of squeaks from the parents, I can only surmise the kinds of parental servings being given for this.

I always make a couple pots of coffee while I sit out here and drink in the light of the covered car port…waiting for sunrise every day.  I used to be a sunset kind of guy, but now I’m more a fan of sunrises.  Symbolism aside, I think that the lights in the sky before sunrise are the best.  That’s really what I wait for – not the sunrise itself. 

Anyway,

Well, I walked six miles to get to this computer, sat down and cannot think of a single thing to say.  Writers bock is a real pain sometimes!

That said, I’m thinking about a day I had not long ago.  I woke up at 4am, grabbed my American Indian flute, a pack of cigarettes and a fresh cup of coffee and went to the driveway.  Sitting out there playing, a family of bats was flying around me while I was out under the stars making my music, and I saw a constellation that looked very much like Orion. I don’t honestly know if Orion is visible from where I live, but its my favorite, and I like to think so anyway… A very scenic setting to start a great day.

I remained there until closer to sunrise when the sky would start to lighten and color up, texting away with someone and really having a good time watching the younger bats flying.  The babies, were still learning how to use their radar, and spent most of their time screwing around and playing when they are supposed to be hunting.  I wondered to myself, if it irritated their parents…

Went in to make breakfast, did the dishes after and grabbed my pack to go over to the neighbors house for coffee.  She speaks Spanish, I speak English and we have our conversations on Google Translator on her cell phone each time.  She and I attempted to teach each other English and Spanish, then traded gossip about things going on.  After two hours, I am on my way to the Shop to write.

I always talk out what I am going to say before I write it.  So it looks like I am having very animated conversations with myself while I walk the three miles to the coffee shop every morning.  I cross through a golf course, down a road with a sign to my right that says Welcome to Paradise and on to the prophetic car wash, as I call it – a bit further down the road.  It doesn’t matter what time of day I pass by, there is a radio that is playing out of speakers there for customers, and there is always the perfect song playing for what is going on in my life.  Dark or light out, its strangely comforting.

I walk on.  Past hair salons, and Quinceneira shops, International House of Pancakes and the Black Sheep Smoke shop.  I stop into this place a lot, hoping that one day they will start carrying incense.  But, they never do.  They can see the despondency on my face when they say no every time I ask, and sometimes they just give me some incense sticks out of their personal stash.  I love free things, but, the truth is that I got my corncob pipe for smoking cigar leftovers, and loose tobacco in my pocket, from there.

I arrive at the Shop.  Its normally dark out, and I’m usually the only one there for an hour.  Today, I sit outside, just within the radiating glow of the porch lights on the perimeter of the place.  And, for me, it’s the best time of day.  Being symbolically superstitious, I always face East.  I get my Facebook and blogs done in an hour or two, watch the early morning staff jamming to 80s mix tapes and I think, anyway, being happy that they don’t have to deal with customers for a little while.

Its off to do errands after, and by this point I have walked seven miles with my pack.  That means that it’s a 14 mile round trip to get home, and after I finish, I just take my time people and car watching the whole way back.  The psychology of driving I find very entertaining.  The rogue speeders that flush out all the cops from hiding.  The packs of speeders that follow, trading off the lead so that only one is in danger for a little while of getting a ticket.  The slower drivers, the co-existers, and the elderly who are inching along out there in older cars in the middle and  right lanes.    

 After a couple hours out in the sun, and my hair is almost blond at this point from so much time outside, its home to a cookout.  I stop at the store to buy wine and beer, and then home to chicken breasts wrapped in bacon – they look like lollipops going on the grill – and the excitement of sitting out in the back yard talking some serious life, with time on our side.

Cheap beer, mixed with $4.50 bottles of Strawberry Wine.  What we don’t drink, you could pour into a car’s gas tank and get 137 and third miles to the gallon.  Awful stuff, but it does its evil work.  And, we sit out and brainstorm such mad plans, and talk life until sunset.  A bonfire is lit in the back yard, kind of like the one that claimed the doghouse, and in between smoking cigarettes and taking turns playing favorite songs on our phones we talk about travel, and music, jam sessions and recording one day. 

At this point, I joke about hangovers.  They say, that drinking destroys brain cells.  But, I like to think of it as pruning the weak ones out of the way, for the better bolder ones to do their work.  I speak about being physically destroyed, but emotionally and mentally recharged the next morning, and how it is a worthy trade off.  I then go on to say, that I have introduced many would be pupils to this approach – results varying.

We get to the end of drinking and eating, and power naps from the inevitable food coma and day drinking are always a plus after times like this. But, I sleep so long without dreaming, that I wake up the next morning around 4am.  I go back outside to work on flute scales and sit out under the stars, listening to blues music on my phone on breaks from playing – and watch the bats again.

Where I live, is a very healing place, and it is a very healing time.  Balance dictates that this is not going to last forever, and it seriously makes me wonder what is coming that I am getting all this rest and healing for.  Hm. But, I personally have learned to enjoy the living heck out of each and every moment.  There is no rule book, or chemical feeling guide for what it is to enjoy perfection as much as you possibly can – but that day was, and it is where you find it, I think.

Like I said I’m having trouble putting two sentences together today, or dos phrases as I like to call them, and I just saw an El Camino drive by.  That’s Spanish, according to That Seventies Show, for The Camino.  I’ll have to bring that up at my next early morning coffee chat on Google Translator and see what happens.  I am taking a breather for a couple minutes, and I’ve reached the end of my thoughts…