spring cleaning and other unrealized aspirations

Today I'm making calls; it's time to line up the next contract, I'm ready. Ducks. In. A. Row. I absolutely dislike applying for jobs even though it generally goes well, mostly because it involves this aspect of self promotion that seems aggrandizing and artificial and goes against the idea of underpromise/overdeliver.

Doing something physical remembers a sense of power. Live muscles, taller posture, thickness. Awake and lit up. It's an entire other dimension, likely undiscovered if not for a series of uncontrolled events. How everything unfolds makes me wonder what else is out there that will radically shift everything. It's never what you think. When I'd reached an endpoint of academia, frustrated that the buzz of wonder was dissipating there was something else out there I could have never predicted or planned.

Yesterday, I began to get pre-nostalgic for this place when I visited the Italian Deli and the clerk continued the harmless flirtation that is his trademark.

"Gnocci, oh this is good. I have some new stuff, in the back, mushroom stuffed. Ask about it next time. And anchovies, hey? I love them, pizza or pasta or anything. Not everybody likes these. I can tell we'd get along together, from what you got here. What kind of cheese is this?"

And then I met J., who recently broke up with my westcoastie friend M., for commiseration sangria that gets you buzzed after one glass. When we left the resto, it was still light out and my mind was blown, in the sangria buzz and hazy twilight. This too shall pass.