Pinky gave me a Christmas present.
It came in the mail after Christmas.
It was a teapot.
I drink a lot of tea but I have been without a teapot.
Pinky took care of that. Thanks Pinky.
When I took the teapot out of the box
we looked at it, Pinky and I.
We stared at it.
It was beautiful.
Pinky liked the lid.
I liked the spout.
The teapot was perfect.
We stared at it together.
It was a beautiful moment with the teapot.
It looked even better on the trivet.
All the trees are perfect.
The town hall is lit.
Snow falls quietly.
Everyone is happy.
Fred, the fire chief, shaved his head.
John thinks he looks like a monk.
Fred thinks he looks cool.
You can tell by the way he carries himself,
with confidence in his stride...
but I have to say, he is another public figure
with remarkably, un-subtle delusions.
John talked to him about the haircut.
He wanted to know if Fred was cut out for monastery life.
Fred’s expression was priceless.
Every day is cloudy.
All the time I hear people complain about the weather.
It is depressing, they say.
It is always cloudy, they say.
I look out the window and nothing is startling, or abrasive.
Cloudy weather provides a blanket of safety.
So here I am under the clouds,
under the roof
inside my condo.
It suits me.
Mayor Armapple is clever daft.
He basically has any Linkshire resident,
dumb enough and good-willed enough,
to work for him by dumping their ice into
his ice recycling plant.
Behind the scenes he lets it melt and sells
bottled water to the local stores.
Armapple is the genius behind the Linkyshire betterment program.
His latest idea is to recycle ice.
My refrigerator makes ice but I don’t think that’s what he is talking about.
I wonder what he is talking about.
He is going to give a presentation on recycling ice tonight.
I wonder if I’m going to watch it.
His program sounds daft.
Paul wrote me.
He is fine, he says,
living with monks somewhere,
I don’t know where exactly.
The post mark is Hong Kong, but
that can’t be right.
He says he is in the mountains.
And without Ruth bugging him,
he is getting clear about life.
Well, I thought, after reading his letter,
I hope he is well after everything that happened.
And I hope Ruth is OK too.
And I hope the bank had a good insurance policy.
And I hope the insurance company had a good re-insurance policy.
I wish everyone well tonight.
I was in the coffee shop, again.
Most of the women in the coffee shop were wearing big fluffy coats.
Did I miss a fashion shift?
These coats were larger than the usual down-stuffed-mega-thermal thing.
They didn’t look heavy but maybe they were a little too big for the wearer.
Kinda like a space suit.
They made me feel like the alien sitting there in my seat.
Mrs. Magellan was sitting in the coffee shop.
I came in and saw her and said, ‘hello’.
She said, What are you doing here?
I’m getting coffee.
Why don’t you make it at home?
Because I like the coffee shop.
You should make it at home.
Oh.
Maybe I don’t really have the rapport I thought I had.
I ordered my coffee and sat down next to Mrs. Magellan.
How are you Mrs. Magellan?
Not good (actually she said nog good, I think she has a cold).
Why?
My son is embarrassing me. He refuses to get a job.
Really?
He’s a lot like that guy in our building, John.
Yeah,,, John. He writes.
My son thinks he’s a writer. It’s a completely worthless profession.
What would be a good profession for your son?
He was in banking. He was good at that.
This was a hard conversation to have. I think I’ll start dreaming now.
I was using the elevator for a change and John got on.
The doors closed and he stopped the elevator.
Don’t be alarmed, he said, I just want to talk to you.
You could come over later, I said.
I need to talk to you now.
OK
I’ve made a discovery.
OK
About myself.
OK.
I found a part of myself that has no meaning.
OK.
Do you know what that is?
Sure.
What is it?
It is you.
What do you mean?
We all know it but no one talks about it. There is no inherent meaning in you. Not that you are flat but that there is that
portion where there is no meaning. It disturbs most people when they find it. They think they are falling into an abyss. But the idea of an abyss is the wrong interpretation of that place.
So what do I do with it?
Don’t interpret it. Just live with it and see what happens next.
What’s going to happen?
I don’t know.
Oh... you don’t know?
I don’t know what is going to happen to you. But you have to trust that place, that restful area. It won’t do you any harm. It has been with you all along, no? After all, it is you.
Oh. Thanks. I guess I’ll wait and see what happens.
John released the elevator and we continued down to the garage, each to his Mini-Cooper.
