Time, the Enemy of Reason.

Tomorrow is the Day. Today is the day before the Day. Yesterday, of course was the day before today, but that doesn't really matter for the sake of this post. One thing that should be pointed out, though, is yesterday was Tuesday. Since Monday was Labor Day (Labour Day if you live in New Zealand, thanks for the information, Trina) Tuesday seemed an awful lot like Monday. Which makes today, which is Wednesday, have the general texture of Tuesday. Having Monday as a holiday is fine, great in fact, Monday as a blessing, but having Tuesday turn into Monday and throw the rest of the week into chaos is just not acceptable.

To make matters worse, if that is at all possible, I am leaving at 11:00 AM sharp tomorrow for Lake Hope, just my wife, our kayaks, and me, and a bottle of Pinot Noir, and possibly a bottle of Malbec. Not because of any great attraction to these two wines, but we happen to have a bottle of each on hand. Not that the wine really has anything to do with this post.

Let's recap, since we seem to have taken a wrong turn somewhere.

Monday was a holiday, which forced an atmosphere of Monday onto Tuesday. This, of course, pressed hard into Wednesday, making it feel frighteningly similar to Tuesday. I am taking a day off on Friday, making Thursday my de-facto Friday, and since it has to serve as Wednesday, and try to pull off some semblance of Thursday as well, and it will have to do it in 4 hours, since I am only working half of a day.

You can see my problem. I am dealing with a week shortened on both ends, and the chaos of trying to cram a weeks worth of obsessing about the passage of time in 2 1/2 days. The pressure is almost unbearable. I don't want you worrying about this, though, it is my job. Just go about business as normal, and I will get this straightened out.

Have a nice Wednesday, or Tuesday, or Thursday, or whatever the hell day it is. It should be a nice day, the weather in Fairbanks AK is mid sixties with a slight chance of rain. If you don't live in Fairbanks let me know, I always thought you looked like a person from Fairbanks. It's a small world.

Since we are going kayaking and I could not find any good kayaking poetry here is a nautical poem, short, sweet and full of imagery.

Sea Fever

BY JOHN MASEFIELD

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;

And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,

And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.

 

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied; 

And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,

And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

 

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,

To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;

And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,

And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

The Week in Review, kind of.

It has been a hectic week, in a way, by normal Life Explained by Tim Clark standards, anyway. Around here, we like things to move a little slower, no surprises, no emergencies, no obligations. “No deeds to do, no promises to keep.” Life as a pleasant diversion.

Early in the week I went on my lunchtime stroll. Keeping the step count up there, you know. And I came across an oddity of a building in a parking lot. What made it odd was the shape, square, about 14 foot square, and the height, about 40 foot high, and the location, right in the middle of a parking lot, and the color, bright red. My coworkers John and Bill had no explanation. It is a complete mystery.

Today, I walked right next to the building, and it still makes no sense. It is empty inside. A tall, narrow, thin building sitting empty in the middle of a busy parking lot with no easily understood purpose, and it is beginning to bother me. I will keep a weather eye on it, and if there is any news it will be right here.

Last night we went out and had a beer with a friend of ours. It was a hip, trendy new bar (kind of) in an old building. It was wonderfully decorated, antique everywhere, booths, tables, chairs, and barstools. This was a stark contrast to the staff, who were young, attractive and friendly, it a little heavy on piercings.  The small room was crowded, and it made me a little uncomfortable, there are lines that should not be crossed, memories that should be avoided. I wasted a lot of my life in places like that.

When I walk around town at lunch I try not to walk in front of cars, even at stop signs. Yes, the laws of right of way are clear, and crosswalks define the sacred path of pedestrians. You don’t have to drive very long to understand people in cars are often willing to ignore the rules. Sometimes with catastrophic consequences.  I try to just walk behind the car, it only takes one miscalculation, one untimely twitch, one lapse of judgement, one person in too much of a hurry to pay attention to make me wish I had not been in that place.

Memories are much the same it doesn’t take much for one of them to break free and run right over the top of you. Sometimes it is just as much about time as it is place, I guess. Those kinds of memories make a person realize how many friends have been lost over the years. People you saw all the time and will probably never see again. Some are gone completely, joined the choir invisible, others are just in Montana, or Oregon, or who knows where. They are all faces that were once so familiar but have grown faded, fuzzy and indistinct. Where does the time go, and where do the people go?

Today, I changed the name of the Life Explained Facebook page to Life Explained by Tim Clark. I am getting better at this shameless self-promotion.  Here is something you may not know; to change the name of your Facebook page requires approval and they say it can take up to three days. It took less than hour. It wasn't a big change, though.

I stopped and got coffee on my way to work this morning. Since the coffee place was so close to where my wife works I got her an iced tea, she doesn’t drink coffee, poor girl. Since she wasn’t at work I left it on her desk, and left a note. “Happy Friday” was my first thought. It sounds so skimpy, insignificant, though. So “I wrote, “Happy Anniversary. It has been thirty wonderful years.” It isn’t our anniversary, and we have only been married 27 years. But, Friday comes every week, our anniversary it only comes two or three times a year. I am thoughtful that way.