life in The Future

I am not that smart, but if I focus long and hard, I can approximate the success achieved by people who do not think too hard.

I'm either retarded or brilliant or both.

We had a bottle of Luis Segundo "Valle Las Acequias Mendoza" 2007 malbec and about a third of a bottle of Susana Balbo Signature 2009 malbec which had been mostly consumed 3 or 4 weeks ago. The Balbo was too tannic to eat with anything but a rare-cooked steak. The Segundo was very light with no tannic end to it. On the other hand, one glass of the Segundo mixed with 25-50 mL of the Balbo...phenomenal. Dinner wasn't bad either.

I knew it was coming; I was going to have to deal with it. The apartment was echoing more and more. Small things were growing sparse. Only a few big items remained, waiting for hands and a truck. I made the final pass for things that could go in boxes and it was on the topmost eastern shelf in the closet. There was no denying it's presence. I recalled the entire thread in my mind, unwound it like so many rolls of film. I grabbed a UCSD bike-to-work shirt that never fit right, an old license plate from a car I no longer have, and it. They all went in the trash bin. Later we came by, six hands and a truck, and moved the last big pieces. After everything was up in the new apartment, we opened a couple Full Suits, put on a Stan Getz record, and talked about trial enrollment, prospective stratification, the different styles of diplomatic fencing, conference abstracts, and genetic disorders.

...and life doesn't wait for anybody.

I didn't save the cocktail napkin from the Red Fox Room and I didn't save the receipt from Bice. On the other hand, there are photos from the hike and a giant piece of a dead tree is in the back seat of my car. Perhaps most importantly, introductions were made. Ineffable mysteries abound.

"Strange memories on this nervous night in Las Vegas." Except that when I woke up this morning, I was in San Francisco. Here is what I now remember of the dreams: there is a picnic table in a forest, in a ravine with a creek. Fallen leaves all over the ground; not muddy but wet. My wallet on the ground, the twenties gone but fives and ones there. My phone missing and I can't find my car. I remember she was there with a friend. I turned around and they were gone with the car and my money. The scenes changed like the static on television between stations (when things were still analog).

Some (boutique, of course) bankers threw a party at an art gallery on Julia Street. I showed up in cufflinks and corduroy jacket. The wine was OK, the conversation wasn't half bad. Later Chris and I had dinner at the Four Seasons. As we were walking out, there was a conservatively-suited young white male almost-but-so-not-quite making out with a well-but-not-ostentatiously dressed young Indian female on an ornate sofa near the lobby. As we waited to get on the elevators, a large group of Japanese businessmen discussed bowing etiquette (in Japanese). Chris commented on a gentleman's pocket square - clearly made of silk because it was too floofy and thus drooping over. I casually walked back into the lobby and stood in the middle of it all while waiting for the elevator. Indeed, his pocket square was droopy. I must only buy linen squares if I intend to pursue the floofy look.

I purchased a Panasonic DMC-FX48 a few years ago for it's compact size and very wide angle lens. The pictures it produced were generally better than expected and it continued faithful service until about 6 months ago when a big piece of dust (a string, maybe) found it's way onto the sensor. This Christmas, however, I found a tutorial for cleaning the sensor of a similar model. One trip to Ace Hardware and half an hour later, I had a dust-free sensor.

I have a green dress shirt that I purchased at a thrift shop a year or so ago. There's no question it is the "nicest" shirt I own. The way the panels of fabric are put together is pretty unique and the overall effect is one of refinement. The colors and textures of the fabric are brilliant and it is totally unsoiled and not even slightly threadbare. However, there were two broken buttons. I found a tutorial for sewing on new buttons. A borrowed needle and about 20 minutes later, I had a repaired shirt that I wore to work on the last Friday before the holiday break.

My parents gave me a vacuum cleaner more than a decade ago. It's a Panasonic model with very '80s color choices. In addition to the usual maintenance of replacing the collection bag, I've replaced the drive belts twice and re-spliced the power cord twice. It still works well; I used it just yesterday.

I don't know why I enjoy repairing things so much, but there is no doubt that it brings me enduring satisfaction.

I wish I had something dramatic to say or, perhaps more realistically, some kind of transform to apply to my experience that rendered it meaningful for the viewer. I was hired at my first "adult" job. I fell in love and had some heartbreak. Washed my car a lot, drank a lot of tea, learned to be more social with my friends. Resolutions for 2012:

• Continue the trend of increasing physical exercise.
• Continue the trend of cooking more meals at home.
• Continue the trend of making my abode more awesome to occupy.
• Start the new monthly G6 meetings.
• Sell the DR650.

You are tired,
(I think)
Of the always puzzle of living and doing;
And so am I.

Come with me, then,
And we'll leave it far and far away—
(Only you and I, understand!)

You have played,
(I think)
And broke the toys you were fondest of,
And are a little tired now;
Tired of things that break, and—
Just tired.
So am I.

But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,
And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart—
Open to me!
For I will show you the places Nobody knows,
And, if you like,
The perfect places of Sleep.

Ah, come with me!
I'll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon,
That floats forever and a day;
I'll sing you the jacinth song
Of the probable stars;
I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream,
Until I find the Only Flower,
Which shall keep (I think) your little heart
While the moon comes out of the sea.

e.e. cummings

I'm tired too. I just want to fall asleep with you in my arms and me in yours once more.