quiet, unedited notes being submitted to a worldwide audience (and still not nervous)

good to be back. went to DC over the weekend and I’m just rolling back into the practice of writing in electronic form. the return to DC meant a reintroduction to writing “physically” on the train. it is good practice. also a reunion with old friends, congestion (traffic), and the summer bustle of a big city with a larger populace (giving the NYC vibe: “a city that never sleeps”). my good friend Derek was incredibly generous in letting Casey and I take over his apartment, giving us the key while he stayed both Friday and Saturday nights with his girlfriend, Chantal.

both nights saw two Hitchcock movies at the Silver Theatre in Silver Spring. phenomenal. Hitchcock’s daughter Patricia was there and I got her autograph. this woman is brilliant. she took the stage at the end of each movie and spoke with the President of the theatre and answered questions from the audience. an incredible moving going experience, as they say. it made the entire trip, as I anticipated.

in the short moments that I spent with Derek, I felt incredibly non-verbal. “Roanoke has made me inarticulate! please don’t tell me this is what you’re thinking!” this was sort of going through my mind. Derek is sort of the life-of-the-party type of guy. this had me thinking a lot where I fit into the picture, if at all. non-verbal is the best way of putting it. a few jokes here and there, but really offering no substantial food for thought, or whatever, even now.

writing out things like . . . all the people around me have more interesting lives and ideas. of course my nightmares are more alive and twisted. this is quite a safe bet. you will beat me at Connect Four, but if we compare dreamscapes, you will be floored. you can talk to the hand on that one and not even go there.

a change of scenery, I guess, has me off kilter. D. and I got to talking about Buddhism and meditation. early on in the conversation I realized that I wasn’t going to say to much about it – because who am I? I could see that he was much more in touch, his life much more “fluid,” for the lack of a better word. though he doesn’t practice “Buddhism”, I could tell he had much to teach me about the essence of Buddhism, lived well there in the heart of Adam’s Morgan. and Chantal, his girlfriend, for that matter. I oberved this is just walking around with them. amazing how all over DC people would walk up to them and say hello. “this is my friend, Glenn.” he’s pretty much non-verbal.

how about
I be a bird
I’ll settle for
bird seed I say-chirp
I will
avoid cats
and unskillful thoughts
but still read
look down
from telephone wires
accounts of
Alma Hitchcock
the woman behind the man
her contributions
her cooking
her splicing film together
her meeting Alfred
for the first time

please don’t
be ill-at-ease with me
if I say nothing
of my lackhouse burning
for the first, second, and third time
that will
probably suit me
just fine
you notice that
even for a bird
I sing
quietly

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