Good morning, Love. The rest I got yesterday is paying off. I’m awake and alert with a few hours of preparation leering at me. I need to strip the bed linens and pile them in the laundry basket provided. Then I need to expend some effort in making certain that the counter tops and floor are clean before I vacate the premises. Of course the towels and other crap all need to be put somewhere so the never-seen-attendant can gather all of it and further convey them to their proper destinations. Lastly, I need to gather all of the cleaning litter, crumbs, and skin flakes and place them in the barrel outside. The things we do for love.
I’m up early; 4:30. I’ve reduced this cabin to a hermit-crab shell. It fits, a little loose maybe but that is good. I need space to strip, wipe, sweep, gather, and dump. Then I can shower and other morning personal labors. Right now I am sipping Italian roast and thinking loving thoughts of you. What a lucky guy. What really got me up this early is the train I heard go through the town some distance away. Trains are mostly messengers from our past. Dumb, thoughtless trains moving along in the night, delivering sad regrets to everyone lying in the dark, eyes half open, watching movies of their mistakes and minor victories. I rolled out to find the notebook and record the event. Man, I like you a lot. Wish you were here.
Here are my notes:
“Sound of freight train moving — The air whistle – the wheel chorus throatsinging along the steel road. Similar in group effort of millions of water drops hurled from a great height to rapidly meet the stones below. The roar of whispering from large numbers in a constant unison. Wheels on steel; droplets on stone. The ear channeling the voices. And the air whistle adding its mournful echo. It all speaks of the pain filled life lived in ultimate aloneness.”
Te Amo,
g
Playing Fair and Being Kind 