I had a very strange day.
It was a pretty one, as you can see, which was excellent, and made my crazed set of tasks a bit easier to manage.
I think I’ve done a tremendous job with a goatload of work, and I’d love to enjoy the warm feeling for a few days, but it’s got to be on to the next run of castle walls for me, and of course the continued hoping that other people will excel and thrive at what they have taken on in relation to my three projects. While it’s important for me to have a team in place for each endeavor, it’s difficult sometimes for me to forge these teams, because most people don’t share my rather serious approach to life, work and love.
I’m kind of a freak and I know it; even when the chips are badly down you know that I am going to do everything I can to bring that sled home with the medicine, like Balto, the bravest dog, and I don’t care how tough things look at any time; I am a mountaineer, bent on a summit, I am a sea captain studying the charts to get the ship past the rocks and into the harbor. I’ll give everything I have, and then I’ll find some more, and give that too, and I recognize that this is an odd trait, but honestly, most people I work with regularly are just like me. They are the only people who really get me. Everyone else thinks… whatever they think. I have no idea, and as someone clever once said, it’s none of my business.
I had a fascinating conversation with Larry last night (in between his genius version of 20th Century Fox and his haunting rendition of Leonard Cohen’s Famous Blue Raincoat) about our first impressions of each other, and I was kind of shocked to hear that he had to decide, just like everyone does, if I’m crazy or a genius or just an overenthusiastic American. I had no idea that my happiness hung so in the balance; thankfully he decided in favor of me. As I told him, I find it extremely tedious to be evaluated by so many people so many times a day, and them so short of decent data. Must everyone make this constant calculus about my exuberance and my seriousness?
And let me just say, I did not have to decide about Larry. I rarely have to decide anything, people do it for me. Unless people are overtly horrible, or stunningly dull, I always start off loving them until they correct me. In fact, I recently changed my Contact page to include the line, “I’ll start out loving you, so don’t waste it before you’ve had what you came for“, so that people who are new to me can get the essential fact in place immediately.
Some people don’t believe my love is on the table from the beginning, perhaps because they themselves are wary, and wary people are looking for the worst, just like childlike people like me think that everyone is ready to love and everyone wants a kiss. My love is all there, immediately, to be accepted, made light of, or frittered away. And when the latter two happen, as they do all day every day, I am grounded even in absentia by Bill, who is unswerving and also very much like Balto, the bravest dog. I can rely on his core of love and his seriousness and his silliness and I can’t wait to see him and the boys tomorrow or Thursday, flights depending. It’s been a long month since they left.
I think it might be time for another read of My Side Of The Mountain for me, the book that confirmed my deepest beliefs about families, trees, and birds. And then a bit of Desert Solitaire, maybe, Edward Abbey’s poem to the splendid nature of nature and the annoying nature of people. And maybe, somewhere, I can find another copy of that book about Balto. Small books can make big impressions on people’s character… I know that mine was surely formed by my mother’s library.
Perhaps if life smiles, one day I can even meet the guy who puts these cheese assortments together at the Westside Market in NYC. I love you, Lee Moyer, for sending me this. Even if they spelled the real Mr. Long & Lovely’s name wrong.