A few weeks ago I was waiting in line at the Target near my house. Standing behind me in line were two women and one of them looked somewhat familiar. I don't mean that I knew her.
She had a certain resemblance to a type of woman I've known before. As if she was someone a year ahead of me in high school or college that I had a crush on, somebody I might have gotten up the courage to talk to a few times at a party or something and wound up making no impression whatsoever.
I wasn't buying much mostly because I'm being careful with money these days.
She looked like somebody who may have lived a few wild nights in her time. On that Sunday she was wearing a very loose-fitting summer dress. It was very becoming. The possibility of past wild nights seemed to be confirmed when I heard her telling the older woman about the time she saw the Beastie Boys way back in 1984 at a tiny club in the Village. This was before anyone knew who they were.
I glanced at what she was buying. Refrigerator magnet letters. Obviously meant for her kids.
I paid for my things and walked off, thinking of how there may have been a time long in the past when I might have actually spoken to her. Things like this have been sticking in my mind lately.
Today, like many days, I took a walk just before sunset. I've been going on such walks even if it's snowing. It cheers me to be outside and alone as I walk and watch the sun set. The cold is bracing as long as don't forget my gloves and hat.
This feel of drifting isolation is unavoidable sometimes and maybe not such a bad thing. At random moments it even brings on a form of peace.
I didn't write the story. I edited a non-fictional preamble of a movie review for "Cisco Pike (1972)": One day you wonder why you're doing things.
Submitted February 24, 2015 at 09:15AM by MusicWithoutWords http://ift.tt/1B7431b jazznoir
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