This and That

Homeward bound

I wish I was

Homeward bound

Home where my thought's escapin'

Home where my music's playin'

Home where my love lies waitin'

Silently for me

-Paul Simon

Up very early to go to the gym, then take one last (I hope) long look for a while at the vistas that surround us in this beautiful place.

Last night I fell asleep by nine, but was wide awake with my usual night terrors at 12:38. They lasted until after three, then up at 5:10 to go to the gym. No wonder I'm already exhausted.

What does one do for two-and-a-half hours in the middle of the night, tossing and turning? I stayed away from the news--the Mad King apparently really showed his ass yesterday at the UN, an insane rant about how wonderful he was and how there had been an international conspiracy to shut down the escalator and mess with his teleprompter that day. I am making none of this up. I saw it on the monitors at the gym this morning, at least on the one tuned to CNN. The two Fox News screens featured a story about something Joe Biden once did, an interview with a diplomat insisting we were always on Ukraine's team and never on Russia's, and commentary that Jimmy Kimmel was an unpatriotic lout for failing to bend the knee when he returned to the air last night. No wonder these people seem so benighted, here in this mendacious media ecosystem.

But last night I avoided the news on my phone, instead scrolling Facebook for the content that featured "The Top 100 from 1979--numbers 21 to 40", or some such. The only real difference was the year. In other words, I watched snippets of music videos from four decades ago, or more, and pondered on all that had happened since I began this journey with hope back then. In another four decades I'll be not only dead but likely utterly forgotten. It gives one pause.

Yesterday after work I met one of my best friends for a beer at Harrison's. A couple other old acquaintances ambled past and visited a little. It was sort of like Cheers, and there's a real comfort in being able to sit with someone whose story has been part of one's life for over twenty years, laughing at what's happened and swapping stories about kids and work and the foibles of our professional community. And unlike so many more superficial acquaintances, he calls me out on my bullshit with an occasional smirk, and asks the hard questions about what I think I'm going to do with myself over the next year or so. I needed that.

Today will be my third and final mediation for the week, at my tiny office down on Fifth. They've booked a half-day, so I foresee racing back to Perry again, in a sequel to last week's scenario, to load and fuel the airplane for a night flight back to New York. Unlike last week, however, there's a bolus of rotten weather drifting east from Ohio and western Pennsylvania, which should settle nicely over my flight path into KELM for the final couple hours in the air. So I'll spend the last part of a very long, very challenging day picking through the muck to get back to my lovely best friend on the next pillow. The things we do for love, eh?