got up, the usual thing, coffee with soya, e-mail, mobile messages, and a fully qualified vegetative state. the phone rings and on the other side the voice says " i am at the airport, and i wanted to call you while i had a bit of peace and quiet." he is in paris, flying to frankfurt, and i sit here in this grey place, on the green chair, and i can barely hear his voice, it is indeed a bad connection. it is christmas, and those who know me, know that i hate this time, and some do ignore my pleas to be left alone at this time. i wanted to feel loved, i feel loved. i feel cared for, and i feel like i am a part of this world, also of his world.
i thought, and thought is something i ought to avoid, that i would be spending this xmas week in paris. after much "hin und her" and after the roof really caved in on my return from italy last week, after i almost got on the next flight bound to faro, i decided to stay put. after all, this is about my brown pants, and these pants are not yet repaired. i am on free running mode. this is when i let my natural internal clock reset itself, i make no appointments with anybody. no alarm clocks either. i close the door, and shut the world out, except for blogging and bloglines, i withdraw. i do not even check the weather reports, one look out the window: grey. fucking grey, that is enough. yes, it borders on depression.
yesterday in a fit of "don't be a scrooge, you bitch!" i exhausted my free allowance of mobile text messages (sms) and sent anyone with a mobile phone number somewhere in my mangled up electronic address books, well meaning and sincere good wishes for a peaceful christmas. what on earth do i have to gain from anything else? this morning i got a few cryptic messages back and am wondering to whom all did i send my good wishes. before that a few friends echoed back, from istanbul, from amman, from wherever they happen to be, either by choice or hazard.
my friend at the airport this morning was on his way to go spend a few days with his aging parents in frankfurt. somehow i had the idea that it would have been nice to go there too. his parents are older than mine, and i like them very much. somehow i censored the idea, there are too many reasonable reasons not to do it, and so many good humanitarian ones that would make this a gift to all involved. above all, it would do me some good to be with his parents. thinking is perhaps a practice that i could abandon.
in my trickle of communication last night i also mailed a short note to my muse. a while ago i got an echo back from him claiming that the pleasure is his. ah! the pleasure is ours.
Technorati Tags: floue, fluage, free running mode, freedom, friendship, muddle, muse, scrooge, zen
