Guardian Reaper

Guardian Reaper

For Percy Hades

So he is simulcast
in our same murk,

same task of living
by the hour watchful.

Same hurry-
up-and-wait

for the moment that
matters most.

Same superlative
resentment that

there's a moment
that matters most.

Same gratitude
to have work at all.

Same restiveness
about it all.

But not all the same:
no knowing,

on this end, whether,
in a different light,

the dark guardian
would be our friend

or already is.
Or already objects

to this (our?)
dual probation.

Or already appears
as an angel just

to stick it to
the lack of better angels.

--Christopher Phelps

My friend and teaching colleague Christopher wrote the above after a brief, joking exchange in response to this cartoon:

Since yesterday was in fact dear old Percy's birthday. Rapidly tumbling toward 60, although not quite there. 

Percy's Guardian Reaper definitely approved of this mode of birthday celebration, from a sort of donut art store in Santa Monica. "Welcome to donut heaven," their website says. The one on the lower left is a "lavender star flower" donut. It was pretty good. A friend sent Ohori's Coffee (Organic Ethiopian), and the combo was perfecto. Percy thought he might get the spaghetti casa at Guido's, but he decided on green Thai curry with shrimp, Thai hot, which was perfect. 

Looking back over a wide variety of blog posts this morning trying to find one in particular and I'm amazed by how stuck and pathetic I've been at many times over the past few years. Yesterday was very low, as befits the occasion of a birthday these days, and it makes sense that it would be low, it's proportional. But it wasn't mired and awful as so much of my life has been over the past while. There's a new kind of misery now that is living with misery that's not even really worth talking about. It's just the fish tank water in which the fish swims, ho hum. Who cares. Etc. There comes a time when even the storyteller is exasperated by the story. 

Another friend stopped by yesterday and gifted these two books, with her open invitation to just text her and leave the intended starting place, with a time, and we could be walking/hiking buddies. I appreciate this, as it's tempting in LA to never, ever leave one's apartment, and has been especially that way lately, thanks to "unhealthy" AQI's due to the wildfires. 

More than 300 people wished old Percy a happy bday on FB, but the day was otherwise super lonely. I think the Bukowski quotation is quite apt, and I think it's both:

Both/and, not either or. It sometimes feels like one can't be free without that edge of loneliness. The interesting thing to realize is that loneliness endures in the midst of many situations that lack freedom, so at least if one makes a play for freedom, the loneliness seems to be more fitting, rather than just the grinding emptiness of life itself. I do recall being partnered, and a stepfather, and feeling lonelier than I do now. Or at least a different kind of loneliness. It seems maybe there should be a taxonomy of the spectrum of loneliness? I am not going to do it, but someone should. 

One of the little local dramas, the nesting Zenaida macrora, has taken on a new phase. The two squabs (the usual number in a brood) have dispersed from the nest, but are not capable of flying yet. I don't know if they hop out or if Momma Mourner kicks them out. I've only been able to find one, which was up on our balcony/walkway for a time, and is now downstairs, huddled by a doorway. 

It must be a strange phase, when these squabs are big enough to be out hopping around, but can't fly yet. This seems a precarious reproductive strategy, and yet millions and millions of these birds thrive everywhere. My metaphorical mind goes where it goes, thinking about these transitions. Meanwhile, Momma Mourner has positioned herself in the tree across the way, cooing up another mate already, and ready to do it all over again. I guess this may well be part of why millions of these birds thrive. Mating while the first brood is helplessly sitting around waiting to be feral cat food is probably a good idea. 

Anyway, happy birthday, Percy old man. I'm glad you keep showing up, as exasperating as it may be for that Guardian Reaper, who is probably hot to retire.