(Autumn is the Catholic season)
This night went differently.
The boy fell asleep right away but then quickly made his way over to my bed where he tossed and turned at the approximate center, somehow occupying all four covers until I finally gave up. I might have slept for two hours, maybe three. I felt as if I had the corner of a washcloth to use as a sheet, one that would get pulled away from me every so often without purpose or warning. Diminishing returns.
Now, I sit here in the dark listening to the tender silence of this little sleeping human.
His mother has been texting me all night, a miscommunication about me watching the dog, Barkley. She got home to her house and the dog was gone. No ransom note, no demands, nothing. Just indignation, from her of all people, at this hour... She must have forgotten that I have the dog. I make the demands around here.
Ah well, Ooops. She just texted again, promptly at 1:52 am.
We are not the best communicators, her and I. It is odd, really, because I experience so few difficulties with anybody else in this same regard. Right?
Communication is akin to the manner of driving, nobody really believes that they are poor at it. It is as the inner-confusion of the person who believes that all animals love them. They will never be dissuaded from this affected notion. There is no cure. How many have argued senselessly about whether it was a slip of the tongue, or of the ear?
Even if you remove my many lionized wrangles, the number must still count among the countless.
Even if you remove my many lionized wrangles, the number must still count among the countless.
Soon enough, iPhones will record everything, rendering one person perpetually correct and the other person perpetually irretrievable.
I almost said, rendering the other person 404. My job is really getting to me. I am everywhere and too often succumbing to nerd-speak. There are worse things, one supposes. The bores keep acting as if their time has finally come. It is nauseating, but immensely entertaining. I must be a monster, to wish time upon them.
I work lightly and on the periphery of the tech-sector. As... I'm definitely on their side when they win.
Now, I listen to my son enjoy the full opulence of sleeping in the center of the bed with every available cover. I sit here debating between the use of the word irretrievable or the numeric 404.
Numbers don't look right in italics. The slant emphasizes them differently, awkwardly, unusably. At least in this font.
Fuck, I am losing my mind. Who emphasizes numbers? I guess they're out there: numbers advocates, integer exponents, digit defenders.
Jebediah Jehoshaphat!, what the fuck is this life doing to me. Being clever is not the same as being good or useful. That simple truth dawned on me as I typed, "integer exponents" into this endless screen, but I still couldn't stop myself. All things wish to survive, even poorly formed thoughts.
Ah well, Ooops. She just texted again, responsively at 1:59 am.
Our marriage failed, perhaps, because she and I did not spend enough time in the countryside, praying together, asking god for the wisdom and guidance that can only be found lurking in the naked creek.
.
