Fixed Stars for Crooked Houses

Nine twenty AM.

Now I’m back from the dentist and from the store. I have to sort through my feelings about all of it. The medical center was where I also first saw a psychologist at twenty years old, so of course I thought of old times with my mother. You can be a grownup and still feel like an orphan upon losing your parents. I think now that the most careful plans we can ever devise will often backfire, and the future is never foreseeable. It was weird going back to the place where it all started, like revisiting your old school or something. The people may be gone but the places usually stay. My mind digresses to an attraction at the Enchanted Forest in Oregon: the House of the Crooked Man. What distinguishes it is an anomaly in magnetism, a natural phenomenon that just happened to occur in Oregon. I guess it’s called the Oregon Vortex. I thought of it because it’s an example of an unstable place. My second grade class took a field trip there and then I forgot about it until today. Probably the Crooked House and the Oregon Vortex are separate things… Anyway, my new dentist is very nice. It’ll be good to get myself back on track with my oral hygiene.

Ten thirty. Aesop and I just shared some baby carrots from a ziplock bag I bought at the market this morning… Again I think, things gone and things still here, just like the title of a story collection by Paul Bowles. And when every compass and landmark fails me I fall back on the zodiac and steer by the stars.

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Time and Durability

Quarter after eight.

I’m housebound until FedEx brings my big package today because they require a signature for delivery. This means no Snapple tea for a while. I might as well go back to work on my project of the bridge on my Fender bass. During the wee hours this morning I listened to Stravinsky and Borodin on an old CD my mother gave me for Christmas when I was 22 years old. It was absolutely beautiful. The “Polovetsian Dances” was exquisite, and the clarinet lead always reminds me of how my mother played the same instrument in her school band. Of course the booming bass drum is like me playing in the percussion section in my youth… It isn’t raining right now, but it feels rather cold inside the house, and the sky appears bleak and indifferent. Cold white and lavender clouds shimmer over the roofline.

Nine fifty five. I think I’m done tinkering with the bridge. I fixed the whine from the G saddle and adjusted the intonation to near perfection. Almost ready to rock and roll.

Four o’clock. The bass amplifier came at 2:22pm. Aesop behaved terribly, but I couldn’t do anything about that. I plugged it in and played with it right away. Sounds pretty good. I don’t know what my obsession with the Omega bridge is since yesterday. I don’t even remember what year I bought it for sure, but I think it was the fall of 2016, when Kate was still my friend. Maybe it’s a symbol of something political for me, a sign of hope for the future of the whole world. I wish the world could unite once again, and I’m hopeful that it will do so. Anyway, the bridge works quite well on my favorite Fender bass. Another way of looking at it is that it’s symbolic of recovery and perseverance. The bridge is a piece of metal that has survived addiction and still carries on, strong and fearless. The tone it creates has incredible muscle. A house can burn to the ground, yet the cornerstone endures, a gold plated hunk of zinc called the Omega bass bridge.

Five o’clock. After playing with the new amp a bit, I ambled to the store for my Snapple tea and a sandwich. Deb was the sole cashier this afternoon. Her birthday was on New Year’s Eve. The other day I reviewed the birthdate of Edgar Allan Poe: January 19, 1809. And Paul Bowles was another Capricorn. I get an eerie sensation from astrology, but it’s only a weakness of mine. Once I thought about buying myself a garnet ring or pendant, just as a token of my identity. Something to outlast the incarnate existence of myself. Still I know that sand is the residue of all stones… and the prime material of new ones.