December 6th, 2008
bossa nova saturday
Traditionally I’ve always thought of bossa nova as a Sunday morning thing, something to have on slow, sunny days like croissants or thick socks. But this morning the sky is so blue, and the clouds have a dreamy kind of depth, gliding by in whales and hippopotami. It still doesn’t feel like December, in general it’s been warm and clear. In the convenience stores Christmas goods have appeared, but my mood is still miles away from holiday.
In three weeks I will be going home. I’m not sure what it’ll be like, but it’s clear that there is a rift between us. I’ve spent five years in another world, and here though time has moved on for me in the States it’s still 2003. I don’t know any of the bands, television personalities, or pro football players. The price of gas is $1.26 a gallon and traffic in my home town is still light. I am a faded anachronism, tinted with strokes of sumi-e.
I hope the past a good bridge to build from, and music will take care of the rest. But for today, I will ride my bicycle slowly, and suck the marrow out of life.
