A Rainy Day in Phoenix
"I reminded myself that incessant potential catastrophe is the human condition, is in fact the price of possessing consciousness, and I determined to live with greater ease from now on, and not to let anyone scare me about the future, because the truth is, the worst thing that could happen to you is death, and that's going to happen despite all your worry and effort, so it's simply irrational not to say fuck it."
- Violence of the Lambs by John Jeremiah Sullivan published in the February 2008 GQ
This past week I've been getting up at 4:30 AM to work out with my buddy Kelly. Yesterday, I woke up at 5:30 AM to go do my usual Saturday morning group run. Today was supposed to be my day of rest. Heavy clouds came in overnight, and I fell asleep to the sound of rain hitting the tin of the parking overhang. At 7:20 AM some asshole's car alarm went off for 10 consecutive minutes. Maybe it was a sign that I am condemned to be a morning person.
After the car alarm finally stopped, I got a big ass cup of coffee from Starbucks and a delicious peanut butter and honey English muffin, and read the first few pages of the aforementioned article. WOW! What a sentence. I had this instinctual reaction to the line that went something like, "SEE! This is the mindset and thought pattern that has kept the Irish alive for centuries." I quickly went to the front of the article to see what the author's last name was. I don't think it gets more Irish than Sullivan.
Maybe this cultural hyper consciousness is why the Irish have a reputation for being heavy drinkers, and why the pub is the cornerstone of the community. It's hard to say with any sort of certainty, but I do see this sort of awareness in my Irish family members. Honestly, it's too small of a population to make a broad, sweeping generalization; then again, maybe I am on to something.
Anyway, I got a haircut from Jay the Barber yesterday. There was a lot less hair on Jay's patio this week. Last time it seemed like there was this pool of dark hair all over Terra cotta stone; this time it was just a dusting. And we talked. We had a conversation that only happens between men in three situations: (a) You are obscenely drunk, (b) You are a practicing Roman or Gaelic Catholic, and you are confessing your sins to a trusted priest, or (c) You are in a barber's chair.
I don't know what it is about getting your haircut, but I've noticed that the relationship between barber and client, is one that seems to bring about what I will call "anonymous openness." If you knew that you were never, ever going to meet a person again, and they weren't going to judge you, then there is an overwhelming possibility for a genuine conversation to occur. And that's what happened yesterday. Jay and I just put everything out there. It was great.
Last hair cut, as a token of appreciation, I gave Jay a six pack of beer and a bottle of Hendrick's gin. This time he made me promise not to bring anything over. He did let me sweep up the hair on his back patio, which made me feel a little better. We went inside, where his lovely wife Christy was baking cookies. We had a beer, chatted some more, and as I was saying my goodbyes, Christy wrapped up some cookies for me to take home. Some people have a barber. I have a guardian spirit.
It's odd because it seems that when the Universe decides to start kicking my ass--which it is right now on various levels, and areas--I start to notice the small miracles that are happening all the time. When I feel like I am on a roll, and am "conquering the Universe," I don't take stock and all the goodness that's going on around me. In a perfect world, things would always be good, and I would be able to recognize all the nice stuff going on all the time. But, if that happened, then I would probably get really bored.
- Violence of the Lambs by John Jeremiah Sullivan published in the February 2008 GQ
This past week I've been getting up at 4:30 AM to work out with my buddy Kelly. Yesterday, I woke up at 5:30 AM to go do my usual Saturday morning group run. Today was supposed to be my day of rest. Heavy clouds came in overnight, and I fell asleep to the sound of rain hitting the tin of the parking overhang. At 7:20 AM some asshole's car alarm went off for 10 consecutive minutes. Maybe it was a sign that I am condemned to be a morning person.
After the car alarm finally stopped, I got a big ass cup of coffee from Starbucks and a delicious peanut butter and honey English muffin, and read the first few pages of the aforementioned article. WOW! What a sentence. I had this instinctual reaction to the line that went something like, "SEE! This is the mindset and thought pattern that has kept the Irish alive for centuries." I quickly went to the front of the article to see what the author's last name was. I don't think it gets more Irish than Sullivan.
Maybe this cultural hyper consciousness is why the Irish have a reputation for being heavy drinkers, and why the pub is the cornerstone of the community. It's hard to say with any sort of certainty, but I do see this sort of awareness in my Irish family members. Honestly, it's too small of a population to make a broad, sweeping generalization; then again, maybe I am on to something.
Anyway, I got a haircut from Jay the Barber yesterday. There was a lot less hair on Jay's patio this week. Last time it seemed like there was this pool of dark hair all over Terra cotta stone; this time it was just a dusting. And we talked. We had a conversation that only happens between men in three situations: (a) You are obscenely drunk, (b) You are a practicing Roman or Gaelic Catholic, and you are confessing your sins to a trusted priest, or (c) You are in a barber's chair.
I don't know what it is about getting your haircut, but I've noticed that the relationship between barber and client, is one that seems to bring about what I will call "anonymous openness." If you knew that you were never, ever going to meet a person again, and they weren't going to judge you, then there is an overwhelming possibility for a genuine conversation to occur. And that's what happened yesterday. Jay and I just put everything out there. It was great.
Last hair cut, as a token of appreciation, I gave Jay a six pack of beer and a bottle of Hendrick's gin. This time he made me promise not to bring anything over. He did let me sweep up the hair on his back patio, which made me feel a little better. We went inside, where his lovely wife Christy was baking cookies. We had a beer, chatted some more, and as I was saying my goodbyes, Christy wrapped up some cookies for me to take home. Some people have a barber. I have a guardian spirit.
It's odd because it seems that when the Universe decides to start kicking my ass--which it is right now on various levels, and areas--I start to notice the small miracles that are happening all the time. When I feel like I am on a roll, and am "conquering the Universe," I don't take stock and all the goodness that's going on around me. In a perfect world, things would always be good, and I would be able to recognize all the nice stuff going on all the time. But, if that happened, then I would probably get really bored.
posted by Zen_Accountant at 7:13 AM
3 Comments:
Mike,
You always leave me wanting more. I wonder if that is good or bad? I suppose it depends on how you look at it. I do wish at times you would delve deeper within yourself through your writing. You let us see bits and pieces but never truly show your hand. Knowing what I do of you...you are more complex than anyone else I know (besides myself). I truly mean that as a compliment. So I would expect that you are struggling in the world right now in many arenas...but it seems that you have only scratched the surface of describing it. Use your pain in ways you never thought of before. Just some suggestions. I think the world of you and I would never say anything bad to you...just constructiveness all around. PS We should get coffee sometime soon.
I had a rainy day in Huntington Beach. And a sore throat. Not sick enough to stay in bed but not healthy enough to do anything of consequence.
A friend lent me the movie, "La Vie en Rose". I planned to watch it but it just seemed like it would be a downer. I was bored and so broke out the iPod I received as a Christmas gift.
What a great afternoon. I pored over decades of music. The history, my history. The men I dated, the schools I attended, the jobs I had. Heartbreak and joy.
Okay, I am getting way too emotional but isn't that exactly what music is supposed to do?
This comment is definitely scattered and confused but I am currently listening to Annie Lennox
singing "Walking on Broken Glass"
so deal with it.
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