in so far as it goes
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NEW WORD NEW WORD! A new syllable, hooray!
With the breaking of the silence of an unmoored day, an echoing jest still a contemporary, carried to the counter of memory with naming, murky suspension in glass; the answer to mourning glum.
Prior to the reward that is coffee, a slumgullion of ground beans, water, and whatever else pre-press is to behold, sits heavy in its steep, tempted by yet another dollop of delectable sustenance. Fructose and glucose.
Honey, everlasting, that which is made for those by those who need it, in tow but resisted; a reminder of woe and healing, of the day, of all days since past.
Embodied mariner in choice and in action, a butterfly in a diving suit; we must always strive both kith and kin, chosen and not.
Deliberate, refreshing, and frustratingly easy, the press, a reflection of artifice made both reel and real, not dissimilar from pigeon post, bandwidth now enamored.
A previously wrought contemporary, always the architect of distance measured and not, metering ghosts through simulated flights. Once by the greeks as oinos or in latin as vinum and now as wine, last by cocktails of sugar rimmed glory in the company of mid-century modern edifice and palm trees. Of pins rebuking past lovers and green uranium glass tea cups, laughter and giggles and horoscope’s entertaining drivel, fuel, or is it petrol, and now by bits both zero and one.
Thankful for what once was fortunate happenstance and then of ink, of Kaweco or of Pelikan and of stationary, but regretful for what became of loss. So much seems to be the result of that new form of “intelligence,” in this Brave New World with which we all increasingly, as never, lay prostrate prevaricated.
Friendship now adulterated through distance and time, what with contemporaneous heartbeats, two new, many old, all with affections, now syndicated and borne.
Exhaustible finite energy, some must go, culled happiness by all that was ever wanted but which sorrowful falls cannot be resisted.
A preeminent example of wondrous, rare, and incontrovertible genius, a virtuoso, the creator of shared experiences, of places never lost though somewhat sinking, of new humans and old friends, what once was and is now anew, progeny begets protégé, where created is better than manufactured.
Ciccetti! Glühwein! Apéritif and digestif! Grocery store birthday cake and pictures not taken or horribly done, frustrating or vicarious yet unavoidably so.
Rue pathos, rue logos, rue kairos, rue telos, in it all, rue ethos, and finally, chagrin!
I watch the dark wet earth-like grounds gather at the surface pre-press, evoking remembrance of yet another treasure, the sands of Tanera Mòr at midnight. If not for the tempest or squall or rain, a sight of Puffins, Guillemots, and Razorbills, all fit for modern-day Darwins. Alas.
Oh Scotland! Of Scotland!
The Water of Leith, a memory of wizards feigned past with stories of privileged pedagogy and magical children. Or was it men? Of life lived in flats and of potential terraced homes of real agency. Of wool and fabrics, the clothier’s haberdashery or the seamstress’ sewing shop. Of fanciful coat tailoring’s vibrant patterned lining. Of Topping & Co, of books abound! Of cooking, of Mac N’ Cheese and of Lophius piscatorius, the European monkfish, and of Ely with its eels and shared stories. Of tea and of friends teaching of graveyards of a time long past; expert renowned and museum curator alike. Of a simpler and freer time.
Lethe or Leith, they say drink and forget, be reborn, come what may. Rebirth! Convention and the path not taken. Secure, who is ever to know or say.
But the vault is closed. You are tending to a different dawn, resplendent, I am sure. Sorrowful sadness thankfully spoiled by tenacious happiness, as befits a once wrought friendship gilded in serendipity, now shapeless as the same.
Curio and happenstance, some lost, some reforged. Green gems, red gems, and white old mine cut gems, stainless steel timekeeping, Victorian rings, and antediluvian Venetian craftsman, curious of all that once was and will be. How ARE you?
Finally! The press falls. A mirror image of morning and night, of the loved now present and the not unreachable past. At last, and all in one sitting, verily I say unto thee sorrowful tenacious but happily, hallo, ciao bella, auf wiedersehen, mein freund Marie but not Currie.
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