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April 25, 2011
And I Walk Into This Meeting
And I walk into work and I've not shaved or anything like that. So I step into the men's room and gargle. That's about the sum total of my hygiene ritual for the weekend.
And my feet reek, of course. It smells like my shoes will rot off of my feet. They're some cheap Wal-mart shoes that Jennifer talked me into buying because I make her buy all of her clothes at Target and Wal-mart because I'm cheap. So she made me buy my shoes at Wal-mart. And they really smell like they're going to rot off of my feet. No joke.
And I walk into this meeting with my hair and my feet and my bear stubble. I'm about 30 minutes late and I hardly recognize anyone in the room full of people. And they're all going back and forth trying to figure out how to indicate the "Home Department" when I walk in and as soon as I sit down I say "Well, you know, we have a Primary Job Indicator. So, most people just say the department on the Primary Job is the Home Department."
And you could have heard a pin drop. Like, they're all sitting around thinking..."who is this guy" and "where have you been?" And this is fun. It almost makes the trip worthwhile.
But eventually, everyone leaves and goes home and I'm left to wander the city alone, unsupervised. And I do, of course, I do. I just stuff the GPS in a bag and I roam the city streets looking for what I can't say.
I like to ride the bike on one wheel, of course. So the chain is stretching and the bike has all sorts of maintenance issues. The left rear turn signal is hanging on by a thread and my rear brakes squeak and the front headlight shines up at the top of the Transamerica Tower.
So, I want to address these issues, but I dunno how. I just dunno how to deal with this. Every day, I sink a little further into this mire. I don't know how to get out any more. I dunno what's real and what matters. I really don't. I don't know. Not in this city.
I try to think about what I want. About what matters most. But so little matters. I'm not much for this world and nothing seems real. Only I want to drive to Alaska. Not for any real reason except that I've never been there. So I feel compelled to go, of course.
But I'm afraid of this job. Of this project. It feels like a black hole I could throw my life into and for what? For what?
So I leave work on the magic carpet and I'm rolling across the city and I find Potrero Hill and on the East side of it, a ...ahem....a "housing development". And I flee that place. If you know what I mean. And I think...this is what I have to tell Jennifer. Dear Jennifer. Trust your instincts. 5 billion years of evolution can't be wrong. If you don't feel safe, then flee, dear. Flee like the wind. And I look around and I see the housing project on the hill and the cockroaches coming out in Uggs and cornrows and I flee that place.
See, you think I have a death wish, but I don't. I really don't. Really I just need to see what's over the horizon and then the next horizon after that. But I end up at the Bay Shore and this is just death. Just slow motion rain soaked poverty with cranes and broken windows.
A Mexican with his engine idling and a Negro living out of his car and now the carpet delivers me from evil. From this nightmare into the heart of the financial district.
I'm riding between these tall buildings and I don't know why I'm here. Why we're here. I really don't. No higher truths to impart. I have nothing to share but my own confusion.
But I drive by a shoe store and I'm like...OK. THat's it. I'm going in. And I park the bike on the sidewalk and I walk into the store.
"Is it ok if I park there?" I ask. Not like I care. I just want to get a reaction.
"Well, since you're already there, what does it matter?" he offers.
So I pick out a pair of shoes and I flee that place and I think...there...something...one chore done...a zillion to go.
Posted by Rob Kiser on April 25, 2011 at 9:23 PM
Comments
haven't commented in a while. but I still stop by. You photos are always amazing. And I love the way you write.
Posted by: Chick Voice on April 28, 2011 at 9:21 PM
glad to hear from you cv. San Francisco has been fun, but it's cold out there. Colder than Colorado I think.
Posted by: Rob Kiser 
on April 30, 2011 at 6:05 AM