lines can haunt you

2006-09-07

I'm on vacation

Last week, I was going to write about being ripped off by an auto mechanic, but now that I've left it for a while, it just seems like such a boring thing to write about. Actually, I guess the entry was as much about game theory as anything else, as the mental game of cat and mouse played out between possible future business and making the customer bend over for you right then and there. (He never had his way with me; the estimate dropped from $284 to $22.60 as I balked at paying, he balked at me being able to drive it out of there, and I walked out to make some calls and think. The noise, and the problem it seems, are both gone. I told him I'd come in for brake work before Christmas. More lies. Christmas lies.)

And now our house is undergoing a metamorphosis. Everyone has left and yet I remain, a sort of tragi-comic figure of ostensible stewardship, too lazy to find a new place, too comfortable with my backup plan, I sit now and watch as the walls come tumbling down. Seamus is here too. It's me and him, just as it must be, the Lord and Major Tom, here to bear witness to the end of an era, the death of a world, and I find it's all too easy to sleep at night.

But isn't that the way? We resist change until it is right in front of us, and then, infinitely adaptable, we snuggle into our new reality like kittens at the teat. Change need not be pleasant for us to bear it as such.

And we can ignore and turn off so much. I'm sitting now, looking out from my breakfast nook and over a pile of rubble, broken boards and hazardous nails, and I feel peaceful here at the end of the world. The climate is changing but no one listens. The pace is accelerating and we go on vacation. We drive a thousand miles in anticipation of nothing; we remove ourselves to seek a fleeting world, and in so doing, rush it on ahead farther.

And you know what? It will be wonderful, I bet, to lick ice cream on the beach and smile at our onrushing fortune, be it a mammoth wave or the secret escape of a pocket of gas; happy, we will no doubt find ourselves to be, at the blistering end of the world.


Navigation previous entry next entry latest entry archives profile notes e-mail How lines can haunt you... Recent Forays 2009-03-10: The names 2008-05-21: in medias res 2007-11-14: The things I meant to write about: 2007-07-29: More than meets the eye 2007-04-13: Where the words have gone. Links Abroad in medias res Modern Drunkard Ftrain The Onion Exploding Dog McSweeney's Internet Tendency The National Pist Higher Blogs Palinode's Palace Schmutzie Friday Films Luvabeans Sprigs Fairlywell Dirty Laundry Boombasticat f-i-n jonquill Stray Sparrow Swordfern Pablo Ashahands Erasing		2006-09-07 I'm on vacation Last week, I was going to write about being ripped off by an auto mechanic, but now that I've left it for a while, it just seems like such a boring thing to write about. Actually, I guess the entry was as much about game theory as anything else, as the mental game of cat and mouse played out between possible future business and making the customer bend over for you right then and there. (He never had his way with me; the estimate dropped from $284 to $22.60 as I balked at paying, he balked at me being able to drive it out of there, and I walked out to make some calls and think. The noise, and the problem it seems, are both gone. I told him I'd come in for brake work before Christmas. More lies. Christmas lies.) And now our house is undergoing a metamorphosis. Everyone has left and yet I remain, a sort of tragi-comic figure of ostensible stewardship, too lazy to find a new place, too comfortable with my backup plan, I sit now and watch as the walls come tumbling down. Seamus is here too. It's me and him, just as it must be, the Lord and Major Tom, here to bear witness to the end of an era, the death of a world, and I find it's all too easy to sleep at night. But isn't that the way? We resist change until it is right in front of us, and then, infinitely adaptable, we snuggle into our new reality like kittens at the teat. Change need not be pleasant for us to bear it as such. And we can ignore and turn off so much. I'm sitting now, looking out from my breakfast nook and over a pile of rubble, broken boards and hazardous nails, and I feel peaceful here at the end of the world. The climate is changing but no one listens. The pace is accelerating and we go on vacation. We drive a thousand miles in anticipation of nothing; we remove ourselves to seek a fleeting world, and in so doing, rush it on ahead farther. And you know what? It will be wonderful, I bet, to lick ice cream on the beach and smile at our onrushing fortune, be it a mammoth wave or the secret escape of a pocket of gas; happy, we will no doubt find ourselves to be, at the blistering end of the world. Tell me when this blog is updated email: