as the wheel turns

yesterday was 37 yrs since i've been born. we slept in and upon rising mm gave me my gift: a crucifictorius t-shirt. a lovely gift to be sure.

we planned a quiet day. we planned to see two movies: hud (at laurelhurst), eldorado (at living room). 1st hud showing was at 1pm, eldorado at 220. since breakfast was to come first we aimed for hud at 1pm. the plan was eat at screen door and walk to hud afterward as the theater and restaurant are blocks away. we'd see eldorado at a later show, maybe in the evening.

en route we discuss the evening prior, the party in our old neighborhood, w/ people close to mm but new to me, the book created as a gift of the party's honoree, mm's contribution to book and the profound realization that seeing it laid out has just birthed for her. we are standing on the sidewalk now, 11:30 am or so, amid the teeming throng waiting to eat at screen door, drinking coffee, and we are discussing the week which has been transformational to say the absolute least. that's meant in creative ways to be sure but those are also symbolic of bigger shifts. we discuss the nature of plans and how each of our paths have diverted from original intent - sometimes wildly - but how we each feel a simultaneous but distinct nod of assent from outside ourselves. these words are crude tools and can't do the sensation justice and by now we've been waiting for 40 minutes to sit down and we're inside now checking the list to make certain we haven't been overlooked and we haven't but there's little to no chance of making hud at 1pm which was the whole point of picking this restaurant - proximity that is - and i feel that familiar burn coming up in my belly, the tiniest flicker of annoyance, manifesting in questions like what the hell's taking so long? but then it hits me that this very moment - us here waiting, perfect plans delayed and altered is the very embodiment of what we were discussing on the sidewalk.

over breakfast (well worth the wait) the notion of aging rises; we recall the luxury of drawing breath, the good fortune that has me above ground, the myriad repercussions and refracted light that shines through the prism of a brain tumor
[q: what was i doing 5 yrs ago today?
a: having dinner at the delta cafe w/ friends that i no longer speak to.
follow-up q: what are you going to do about it?
a: i don't know. i really don't know. maybe nothing.
follow-up q: why does this issue keep arising?
a: it hasn't stopped aching.]
we took our time thru breakfast and left around 120pm, an hour till eldorado. we headed downtown.

downtown now, the streets are thronged w/ gay pride parade celebrants.

killing time at powell's b/f the movie. mm buys 2 books, i buy a film comment.

we step next door to buy tickets for eldorado and are informed that the movie is in theater 6 which as it happens is against stark street, which as it happens is where a post-parade party is underway - heavy loud perpetual thumping bass - and that they were going to cancel the screening.

they ask us: do you want to take the risk?

we do.

the film is great - very much about being above ground, not in it - just like hud, which we see a few hours later. there is the occasional pound of a bassline through the wall which is another way of saying it is not an ideal situation, which is another way of saying it is not what we planned. but it is still soaring. it is still beautiful.


mogomom said...

I'm so glad you're still above ground. Your friendship means so much to me/us. I love reading what you write - even though it often makes me cry.
happy birthday, blappie.

xtine said...

an all hail to you and m. what a treat to see you both twice in a row. and your birthday in between, no less. happy birthday, b.

to paths verging and diverging. and this all so imperfect beautiful beautiful breath right now.

[unexpected pounding bass]

rock the house!