blog cherry

my friend jason gives me a hard time about the blog thing, the idea of blogging, to a certain extent I agree with him, what’s the point really. I'm getting old and I should be concentrating on other types of writing. the contrarian in me, which looms rather large over my entire landscape, says “fuck him”. because isn’t the point of the internet, or any kind of technology, to make things easier, or connect us in a different way, or simply to make things better. if it’s not doing that then it’s a failure. I saw a guy being put in handcuffs the other night on my block. my immediate reaction was that someone has failed, or something about us as a group has failed, because we have an invented device to keep people from moving their arms and hands. when I read about bombs going off I always think the same thing, we as a group, because we are part of that group, whether we want to admit it or not, have failed with that invention.

the blog seemed like a good way to point things out to my friends, if they ever bothered looking at it, things that I found interesting. or poems that were in the process of being written. maybe because I agree with jason a bit, that too many people are out there saying nothing, or maybe because I’m just afraid of people saying “jesus, what an idiot”, or something else close to that sentiment, whatever the reason, I haven’t actually put myself into the equation that much here. I’ve stayed out of it in a lot of ways.

I like that jason gives me a hard time. it makes me think whether or not I really like the blogging idea, which I do. there are thoughts you’re having that you want to share sometimes with your friends that you seem to have best sitting alone or while you’re watching a baseball game on your computer, or stuck on the muni train between the van ness and civic center stations. which is where I was thinking today “please don’t let me throw up”. because I was sure I was going to right then. and throwing up on the muni train, stuck in a tunnel, everyone on that train was going to hate me. it was a very crowded train at the time. I started thinking that I’d have to announce it. “excuse me, I think I’m going to throw up and you should probably step away from me if you can. I know it’s crowded but if you let me through and let me step over into that corner I’ll try to control it as best I can”.

the feeling passed. it was the second time it passed. the first time was back in west portal. the feeling itself came about in a strange way. I ate bad food at chevy’s after work and had a great time doing it (no, this is not the reason I felt like throwing up). after eating I was walking with someone and she was talking on her cell phone. we got to the corner across from the muni platform across from stonestown. she was still talking on the phone. I looked down to my right and saw a train coming down the tracks. I motioned that I was going to head across the street and catch the train. she motioned back, “sure, okay, dinner was fun, you’re an excellent conversationalist and even though I’ve been on the phone talking to someone else the last five to ten minutes it’s really you I’d like to be talking to and it’s the one big regret in my life that you’ll be boarding that train without me, while I slowly hasten that other way”. or maybe she waved and starting heading the other way. the light was green and despite my waiting a moment to go, the walk signal was still in my favor. I moved into the intersection a bit too fast, I’ll acknowledge that, but I had the right of way. the guy driving the car was young, for some reason I focused on his face even though it all happened very quickly. maybe it was the fact that his head wasn’t turned the way it should have been and I picked that up in the pattern of things we take for granted, that pattern was slightly out of place. he was looking to his left while turning right. he never looked to his right to see if there were pedestrians coming into the intersection, and his car was moving, he had a red light and never came to a complete stop. he turned his head then and saw me, his foot was on the gas at the time I’m guessing. he had a moment of panic, I watched him have it, and he stepped on the gas ever so slightly. his face was amazing right then, I could see he couldn’t believe I was suddenly in front of his car. he found the break, but a tiny bit too late. his front right bumper hit my left knee and moved the left side of my body out of the way at the wrong angle. my right foot couldn’t move as a reaction. his front right tire rolled up onto my foot. he found reverse then or he was driving a clutch, I think it was that actually, and the car moved backwards. I jumped back out of the intersection. “are you okay”, she said. “yeah, strangely enough I think I might be. he rolled over my foot, but I think its okay. my knee hurts a bit, more than my foot actually”. the guy in the car hadn’t moved. he looked like he was driving his parent’s car, a sedan of some kind. he looked scared. I felt bad for him and waved him away. he didn’t wait, he left very very quickly. he left so quickly it gave me second thoughts about waving him on.

then I did what I often do when anything bad happens. I ran off. I have no idea where this instinct comes from, but in bad arguments or earthquakes, or car accidents, or other incidents of stress I was to be left alone and let be quiet for a while. so I waved and said I was okay again and headed for the platform. I still made the train and it wasn’t as crowded as it was going to be, but still almost full. when I took off my shoe to see what my foot looked like where the car had run over it people seemed curious, I could feel them noticing. the entire top of my foot was red, but again, it didn’t hurt as bad as it could of. I got my shoe back on and straightened up and that first moment of nausea hit me. my left leg and knee hurt more than my foot.

at the civic center I took the long escalator that leads up to the library out of the station. as I hit the sunshine I felt weird again. I had my i-pod on and I was trying to not think. I turned the music off and put the i-pod away. the sun was really bright and it hit me hard somehow. the sun always bothers my eyes, but this felt like I just wanted to get in the library as quick as I could. I had one of those twenty second walks to the doors where it seems like everyone in san francisco is in your way. I got inside the doors and it was crowded getting past the security stop as well. I got to the center of the library building, where you can look up and around at most of the place and just stood there for a minute. I like this spot in the library, it seems to hum with activity and noise and if you watch the people going by you see the whole city in a way. I was hearing the hum louder than usual and then I had this moment of sadness. I started thinking that if he hits the brake peddle a second or two later I’m on the ground with a broken leg at least. I blamed myself a bit for moving so quickly into the intersection.

where does that sadness come from, the kind that seems like it will overwhelm you. and where does the initiative to fight it come from. standing there my imagination kicked in. I closed my eyes for a second and a claptrap of quiet came down. it came down quickly artificial. there was no quiet. then the library was the library again, but I wasn’t myself again. I was shaky. as often happens in such moments the past came up to get me a bit. I tried to put it away and I moved to the back of the library and took out my notebook, thinking maybe I could at least get a poem out of the experience if nothing else. but I had nothing to write down. I sat there for a minute, calming, waiting. how many hours in our lives do we spend in that kind of waiting. again I closed my eyes for a few seconds and I imagined myself back in the center of the library, with that quiet, and everyone I knew in san francisco there, and I was supposed to say something. this image formed in my mind and all I could think to say was “I had a few years taken away from me once, which you can never really explain, which doesn’t matter. the result is that I’ve always felt like I started late, that I’ve always been behind. you should know that about me”.