Month: May 2024

Pleasantries

I need to read more poetry. and more Shakespeare. and more classics in general. and reread what I loved before. I need to read more in general.

And listen to music more. Really listen, not stream it in the background.

There is beauty in the eyes of a hound seeking a good scratch or massage or belly rub. There is beauty all around us. And those who passed before us and with us have created beauty of their own, in painting, sculpture, great stories and films and shows …

There’s so much to see and hear and do while we are passing through. It only makes sense to see and hear and do the things that lift us up and lift up the people we meet along the way.

In the lovely old film Harvey, Elwood P. Dowd remembers something his mother told him: “In this world, Elwood — she always called me Elwood — in this world, Elwood, you must be oh-so-smart or oh-so-pleasant. For years I was smart. I recommend pleasant. You may quote me.”

I have a ritual when I come home. Whoever is at the door when I open it — and it will be Dejah or Summer — I light up and cry, “It’s a PUPPY!” Whoever arrives second, I greet with, “It’s ANOTHER puppy! There’s puppies everywhere!!!”

I realized yesterday morning that yes, there’s puppies everywhere. What a more pleasant world we would have if we would just spend more time looking for puppies.

Forecast of storms

“If the atmosphere becomes unstable enough, we could have some severe thunderstorms tonight,” the weatherman chirped on the screen.

“Good, very good,” said the dark figure in the corner, arms crossed in front of him on the desk. “Your mission today is to destabilize the atmosphere.”

“Piece of cake, boss,” said the unctuous tall man standing obediently before him. “We have everything ripe for that anyway.”

Outside the window the many minions mingled along the street, ripe for disorder and unaware of the manipulation afoot.

“Thunder and lightning and storms,” murmured the man at the desk, “Oh, my.”

And all day long the words shouted in fear and anger and condescension, so when the first thunder cracked that night, no one was surprised.

The storm was upon them before they fully realized.

The atmosphere had become unstable enough — just enough for the storm. Was that maniacal laughing in the dark between lightning strikes?

The page counter

“160-161-162 — oh, hi,” said the page counter.

“What am I doing?” I asked. That is to say, what are you doing?”

“Numbering the next few pages,” said the page counter. “165-166-167 —”

“Why?”

“168 — what do you mean, why?” said the page counter. “Don’t you want to know what page you’re on? Don’t you want to find a page you’ve passed already?”

“What would be the purpose of that?”

“Well, say you remember having a remarkable insight on page 47. Now all you have to do is go back and look at page 47 and go, ‘Eureka!’ And you can relearn the lesson, or avoid that goof next time, or expand on the insight, or otherwise move forward with the knowledge.”

“Don’t you think I’m just going to do whatever I want in the moment next time, just like everyone else?” I asked.

“Well, that’s a pessimistic comment from Mr. Optimistic Guy,” scoffed the page counter.

“Just looking around at what I see.”

“Look, do you want to learn from your mistakes or not?” said the page counter. “Don’t you want to be able to go back and find what you wrote before?”

“I haven’t done that in a long time,” I admitted.

“Maybe it’s time,” said the page counter. “171-172 —”

I watch the page counter wander away through pages still blank in the morning sun. Just out of curiosity, I peeked back at page 53, and what do you know?