-- Frank Sinatra
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Left Hillsdale early this morning, cruising south with the sun to my left, feeling ready as the rain I drove through in Indiana: fresh, smooth, pattering, in beat with Jason Mraz and beebopping and scatting (as Zach would put it) to the rhythms of a new life unfolding. I had this moment of, My God, I just might be on the cusp of living the life I want to live.
It's a good feeling. For the first time, I feel cool and collected, confident with every possession I own in the trunk and backseat of my car. All that is Me comes with me wherever I go. I pull into parking lots, and when I lock up my car, I am keeping safe all the material things I have chosen to keep in my life. I discard and accumulate at will (said the nerd, biting his lip).
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Hit Chicago shortly after noon, zipping north on Lake Shore Drive with the sun to my right. Grabbed a hot dog at the Superdawg ("Hiya! From the bottom of my big beef heart!" reads the custom-made napkin) and retired to Matt's cozy abode, chatted with Missy about Huron haps and mishaps, future plans and suchwhat. Hit the blue lake--delicate azure rays and waves like those on the Chicago shore make distances disappear in a heartbeat, and a phone call on the sand is like a hug and a whisper that tickles your ear deliciously--and swam for a time, watched the sun set over buildings as a ridiculous teenage lifeguard in a dinghy called at us to stay close to shore. In a little bit, we'll grab some Mexican eats and hit the streets. Tomorrow is breakfast and Willy Wonka at Chicago Shakes, then a shortened home trip to a Bellevue sunset and a family dinner.
The Life, man, I'm telling you. Sometimes, I feel like I'm living it.
3 comments:
Good to see you posting again, I liked this one (and the last one). When does the job start?
Speaking of which, there's a good chance that I'll be moving to Council Bluffs to write for the Nonpariel. Which would be cool if you're gonna be hanging around Omaha for a while.
Also: The Great American Novel might be one of the most weirdly brilliant novels ever written.
Great mix of calm and spirit in this post. Fun read. Good description of the materials gathered in the car.
Job starts August 25. I have to show up memorized and everything--it's like a real job or something...
When would you be hitting the Bluffs? That's 15 mins from my house.
And about G.A.N.: I love every page. It's been a long time since I really read a baseball novel, and this one is fab to the max. I love the stuff about Hemingway in the Prologue: catching swordfish with ease and tossing them with disgust, lampooning Melville and Hawthorne all the way...weirdly brilliant, indeed.
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