Curt Jimenez Attends a Talk. Thinks.

It takes a lot of energy to imagine how things appear after looking at them from all angles and then not having the pleasure of watching them, not even watching, but running your eyes across them, anymore. Or just observing these things, with multiple surfaces, from one angle. That is difficult.

I think I understand.

This idea of imagining the entire dimensions of something from nothing or from one angle is not my own, but that of a woman who was talking about her films on radiation and plum. I've never seen her films. I don't remember her name. But I remember she was insistent that plums could not be more than one, not under any circumstances. Therefore, several plums were several plum. That, too, I think I understand.

I went to her talk because I felt especially worldly today, and because of the tornado watch. What would I do if I saw a tornado? I wouldn't watch it.

After the talk, I tried to imagine a tornado from one angle. It came to me like this: how I used to draw flags on top of castles, which I also used to draw. The tornado was a flat triangle. Then, I removed the lines from the triangle because tornadoes don't have solid walls, and imagined lines like eyebrows. My tornado did not move. It did not make a noise. It was difficult to understand.

Do you know because I tell you so, or do you know, do you know.

Evian said, "I don't know how to stop," before I knew she was Evian. She was sitting in the library, so she whispered these things, but I heard her still. "I'm moving all the time, I have motion-less sickness. I'm dry," she said. "Like dehydrated." She knew I was listening because why else would she say these things in whispers meant for someone to hear?
"I'm Evian," she said.
"Curtis," I said, because I am tired of meeting people and writing that I've met so-and-so on this blog, and then never really seeing them again and then never writing their names down again on this blog and because what was the point of telling Evian that I was Curt, instead of Curtis? How could it offend her? How could I hurt her feelings? How did I know that her name was Evian, and not Ivana, or Else?
"Do you know because I tell you so, or do you know, do you know," she said.

What is boredom but nonsense? I could have walked away, I could have asked her what she meant, I could have told her that I had been moving, also, that I had lost a great many things and gained in tiny increments, vague, frustrating, and delicious interpretations of myself.
I should have ignored Evian. But she didn't give me a chance. She stood up and walked away.

The barcode on my library card was blurred. The man at the check-out counter told me so. He typed in my numbers and said I had a twenty-five cent fine. I dug in my pockets for a coin and came up with nothing.

Mi casa es su casa

The sound of the food processor drives Dad crazy, vrrr vrrr, mad, vrrr, vrrr, he shouts, "Curt! Curt! Turn that thang off!" I call Guy. Guy tells me that he's a vegan. "What's that even mean?" I say. "No animals, Curt," Guy says. But he's still not clear, or at least he's not clear enough for me. "No hamburgers," I say. "Nope," Guy says. "No eggs?" I say. "No eggs," Guy says. "What about fish?" I say. "Not even fish," he says. He knows it's coming. "No...butter?" I say. "No butter," he says. "Well, I mean, I can have something called Earth Balance." "I want to cry," I say aloud, even though I intended to think it instead. "Don't be so dramatic," Guy says. "I feel great. And, it doesn't mean you can't eat butter," he says. "I can't make butter here!" I say. "It's always, Turn that thang off," I say, imitating Dad. I am sobbing. "Curt," Guy says. "Mi casa es su casa."

I'm not dead,

am I?

Beginning, Again

Pa's house is cold. Cool, like the underside of a rock. Did I mention this before, about Pa's house? And what is this, me calling Dad, Pa? Did I write once that Pa and Pal were so close, but couldn't be farther away? That the L made all the difference?

The house is dark, just outside the city. I can't help but think the dogs would have liked it out here, running through brambles, bringing the smell of branches inside the house, that is, if Dad/Pa let them into the house, which he wouldn't have, he was never one for dogs, especially "big" ones.

This wave I'm riding, where does it really begin? Where does it end? How far onto the beach will it take me?

I can't say that "riding" this wave has been comfortable. I am saving money. I am away from all the ruckus. But my commute to work is 16 1/2 minutes longer and I have not concocted a single butter since moving in with Papa. Papa, now that's one way to say Dad.

I cannot walk to the library. Or walk in the cemetery. And me and Dad, we must begin again.

Homes: "If you begin and it is not the beginning, begin again."
Curt: "I will begin again."

Surf

Big changes are coming.

I'm moving back in with my father. After 34 some years.

Big. Changes.

Sometimes you just have to get on a board, and ride the tide. Or something.

Trespassers will be persecuted!

It is "hard" to believe, or at least it is for me, that March has arrived. The darkest, coldest days of winter have come and gone, I hope.

Let me tell you what I did in March so far. I went to the grocery store because I wanted to buy an avocado because avocados remind me of butter. An avocado is a buttery vegetable, except that it's really a fruit. A buttery fruit. When I got to the grocery store, the fruit and vegetable aisles were being stocked and I didn't want to bother the grocers stocking the fruits and vegetables because I didn't want to get in their way and have them stop doing what they were doing just so I could grab one avocado. Also, a long time ago, a man who worked at a grocery store told me that there were spiders in the boxes of bananas and that they were poisonous and fast and I didn't want to take my chances with poisonous, fast spiders. I thought about leaving the grocery store and coming back later in the day so I wouldn't inconvenience them because I know how it feels to be inconvenienced while on the job, trust me. But I didn't leave the grocery store. Instead, I wandered. I like looking at food in places other than my apartment because it looks different than it does in my apartment. The food in the grocery store looked clean and sad. I wandered for quite some time, but the grocers in the fruit and vegetable aisle kept stocking fruits and vegetables and I had to use the bathroom and so, I left the grocery store without an avocado. I walked past an abandoned house that had a message written across the rotted siding in black paint: Dangerous! No trespassing! Trespassers will be persecuted!

I walked home to my apartment. Disappointed. And then I thought, "Well, tomorrow, I will purchase an avocado and it will be even more delicious and buttery because I was patient."

Patience, I am learning, is important.

I will endure. I will endure.