Assassin

I behaved myself for most of the morning and fell into the proper intellectual role, but this afternoon the podcasts were done and the playlist fell on "Assassin" by John Mayer. I know, he's not an artist obscure, but there's something about that song today, while I picked up the makeup of beef bourguignon, a prescription, and grabbed a bowl of creamy hot chocolate at La Boulange de Cole that spoke to me. Deep drums, intended mischief turned, and I hit the back button to hear it again.

You get in, you get done and then you get gone...

Last night was awful. The kind of awful where you have a drink at your fourth choice of a bar only to find out it's cash only for something that probably isn't Don Julio Anejo, as asked for. Then the solution was tried of getting a small pizza with extra basil and taking it back home to enjoy with a glass of wine.

That just made things worse.

Should have turned around and left before the sun came up again...

But the sun came up again. And I left the phone off and dressed in misfit colors of orange and black and went to the ocean. I listened to the stories and classrooms of my MP3 and lifted my face to a curtain of fog. Ah, sweet fog. Like snow, drizzle, a brumisateur, fine gray sunshine. The sky clouded over and I took off my cap, wind running through my scalp. Slopes and grass, tall trees and reasons for green.

My phone stayed off today. All day I was quiet. There are probably messages on there, and my employer probably needed something today and I didn't answer, but I needed a safety net last night where there was none and I knew the most important thing was just to do what they tell you to do in trapeze school--"shut off your mind and listen to the commands." What were the commands? Shut off the phone. Shut off Twitter, which is still rehashing a victory and several losses. Go on Facebook, sign off with some cryptic one-liner, and then go back to what I love, word-slaying. According to the world, I suck at this, but if people want to find it and read it, they can find it. The witty one-liners, the hope of network, the belief that there's still wonder--that will now all be found here.

I was a killer, I was the best they've ever seen, I'm an assassin...

Tonight's comfort is a bottle of chianti, a good book, and satisfaction that I created a kick-ass meal from a Julia Child cookbook tonight. My successes. What I can do.

I'm not a complete failure. I have a job to do. Little did I know that the rest of the world were assassins too.

Thanks, John. :)