I listed a first generation iPhone for sale on eBay today. I’d been keeping it for years. Nine years, in fact. Nine years and one month — since the day that Pfundi died. It was his.
I remember him being excited to have it. While I don’t remember the day he got it, I do remember being at Kennywood and holding it for him while he went on one of the water rides. He was so worried about it. I though it was neat, though I didn’t really know what to DO with it. What can I say, it was new to a lot of us.
Since it came into my possession, I transferred the photos off of it. I’d charge it every so often to make sure it still worked. It wasn’t really usable, though. It sat long enough for it to become collectible; to have someone else want it.
While I appreciated it, I didn’t need to collect it.
I listed it around 14:30. By 18:30 it was sold.
Feeling a little mixed up about losing possession of it on the drive home from work, I looked at the sky over the river. It was about 90 minutes after a big storm came through and the sky was mostly clear, save for four clouds. Two were small and circular. In between them, another small one, slightly lower. Beneath those three, one shaped like the letter D tipped to the right and slightly elongated.
A big grin in the sky. A big grin in the sky as I was wondering if I did the right thing by selling Pfundi’s iPhone. My guess is that he’s happy it will now be in the hands of someone who will adore it as much as he did.
Currently homesick for something, somewhere, or some time, though I can’t put a name to what it is, what I want, or how to get past it.
I heard Nora Roberts on NPR’s Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me a while ago. During the interview, she said she thought everyone made up stories in their head but learned that it wasn’t the case.
News to me was that it wasn’t the case.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve had narratives in my head. Random characters, people I knew, and characters from TV or books all had been featured at some point in various daydreams.
I’ve been able to build on that through Obi’s presence online. He’s such a strong character that sometimes he doesn’t fit it at Scouts. There’s a level of catness to him that the others don’t have, nor do they seem to understand. But I like him. And I’m not going to change him fundamentally.
My new goal is to get these narratives out of me head and onto paper. Someone may be interested in reading them, even if that someone is only myself. How bad can they be?
Three years ago, I hosted a small-ish dinner party. One of the guests was someone I hadn’t seen in while, after some past bullshit drama to which I was, through no fault of my own, an indirect participant. They brought a wonderful housewarming gift: A bottle of 2012 La Grêle.
Unfamiliar with this wine, I researched and learned that on July 1st, 2012, a hailstorm “of incredible violence” destroyed everything on the Chateau de Roquefort’s 62 acres. Everything. In seven minutes, the entire 2012 harvest was gone. Neighbors and fellow growers stopped by and were shocked by the damage. One offered part of a crop, a second followed suit, then a third, then a … well, fast forward to thirty-seven.
It’s a blend of carignan, cinsault, grenache, mourvedre, merlot, cabernet sauvignon, syrah and rolle – all of the different grapes from all the different people who banded together to help out someone in the face of adversity.
So, when and where do I drink it? When is the right time for a bottle of wine that you’re ‘saving’ for the right (perfect?) occasion?
Well, let me tell you:
You are selfish.
You use people for personal gain.
You do not keep your word.
You do not respect people.
You do not value friendships, fraternal teammate bonds, or partnerships.
What you’re missing is this: Real love doesn’t divide. It multiplies. Or as Larkin said, “What will survive of us is love”.
And it’s very true.
You are no longer in my life.
I have the honor of sharing a friendship with one the best people in the world. It’s an amazing bond borne out of love, respect, and understanding. They have since married a wonderful individual who loves me almost as much as they do. And I love that individual that much, as well.
For that, I thank you.
Like many others, I keep my generic everydays interesting, at times, with daydreams. When I’m too tired, I lose those daydreams. And when I lose those daydreams, I have a terrible time dealing with the mundane everyday minutiae.
I should be able to focus and for a while, I can. A few weeks aren’t a problem – it’s when the mundane-ness drags on and on that I lose it. So what does one do when there’s no daydream to get you through?
I’ve been doing this for ten years.
This is post 477. Counting Obi’s posts, it’s post 513. Some of them were even read! By people!
It blows my mind; I really don’t know what to say.I wish I’d written more. I hope I captured at least some of the important things that happened. I know I’ve written damn near a million things in my head that never made it to the screen. (Maybe I should use the voice recorder on my phone. Maybe that the difference between good writers and the rest of it – they write down their moments of brilliance while the rest of us just forget them.)