It happened in the bathtub: all of a sudden, I was back again! And I hadn’t even realized that I’d been gone…
Maybe it had to do with my exercises this morning. I have this invented routine with push-ups, crunches, and 15-pound dumbbells that mostly went by the boards while I was away, but I managed it today. The good thing was, I hadn’t deteriorated all that much. The bad thing was, I was pretty much still numb like I’ve been the last two days, probably because of the intense focus necessary to get the job done in Tucson—some part of my soul was still out slaying dragons and not back here where it belonged. Anything you do to move your body, use your muscles, has effects beyond the physical. Who knows?
I also did something very uncharacteristic for me, watched a Netflix DVD that had been sitting on my desk for a month: “Black Book,” a 2006 Dutch film with Nazis—lots of Nazis—machine guns, naked boobies, and heroic resistance fighters who all get killed. It’s quite a yarn, “based on true events,” which could mean anything, but I liked it. Mostly I liked the blonde female lead, who seemed to spend a lot of time wriggling in and out of a slinky red dress. At least that’s the part I remember.
(This definitely helped.)
Anyway, here we are.
Now what?
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{ 5 comments… read them below or add one }
Now you come hang out with me! (And bring that movie…!)
Who is the real JHF? The smiley guy in the ball cap or the morose naked guy with the bad specs? –I’ve been reading enough of you to know you’re both, in alternation and intermittently. R.L. Stevenson had a pretty deep idea when he wrote a potboiler about a civilized citizen fighting periodic bouts of derangement. That could be you or me, brother. But what doesn’t kill you… well, you know the rest.
That’s not “morose,” that’s ART! I’m not the least bit morose. I’m back in my body, I’m fucking saved!
I didn’t say it wasn’t art. I was trying to characterize the image. I know from the text that you’re feeling fine, but the photo shows something darker, don’t you think? Especially, in contrast to the one on the masthead. In my book there’s nothing wrong with darkness – moroseness even. In art I generally prefer that effect. It’s closer to our natural condition. About 90 per cent of the smiles one encounters are pretty fake.
Yes, the photo is good and dark. I do love irony.