rlbourges

Waiting or: As The Moods Turn

In Animals, Artists, Collage, Collages, Mary Etteridge, Music, Once in a parking lot, Revision, Ridgewood, Story material, Summer Story, Theater on August 10, 2014 at 6:24 am

So here we are, the character and I, on the cusp of… something. She has done what she had set out to do, more or less. A loving husband and child await at home. Life with all its snares and mortgage payments, happy moments and sad. Yet, there she is, thirty-eight years old, on the cusp of… something. I’d love to jog her along, after all she’s slowing down the story. Foot tapping, finger drumming. Come on, do something. This is a story. Mustn’t be late for… something.

Waiting. The extreme discomfort of. The discovery, if you’re into meditative practices, that – what? this is it? I sit. I watch my thoughts drift or stick around, the way I would gaze at The Weather Channel? You call this useful? You call this worthwhile?

I’m back in my usual digs with gifts of food and drink, plus the loan of The Norton Anthology of American Literature, Fourth Edition, Volume 2. Plus the blessed reminder that Cap Verdian singer Cesaria Evora was no winner in the looks department, but the voice? The band that played and toured with her? Blessed be thy memory, Cesaria.

So. I’ll wait for the thirty-eight-year-old to give one last turn of the key in the door of the apartment filled with the ghosts of old nuns. On my table facing the window: books, notes, a twisted wire figure of Don Quixote on his good old horsey Rossinante. The flyer a Jehovah’s Witness handed me yesterday. What is the Meaning of Life? Is God the cause of our suffering? What happens after death? These are some of the questions to which the man told me I would find answers by clicking on the Witnesses’ website.

Not that I won’t drop by the website, perhaps. But in terms of questions and answers, I’d rather wait for my characters to go in search of their own. As the moods turn. Some of us, dear character mine, go through more mood changes in a day than a Revue Leader goes through costume changes in a show.

Will Rossinante clop, amble or gallop today? Qui sait, qui sait, qui sait.

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