Empty Window

The small, banal task of taking the air conditioner out of my bedroom window turned into a romantic remembrance, albeit a sentimental one. During the hot summer months my room, and to a lesser degree my entire flat, is sealed tight. The hum of the air conditioner drowns out the sound of the wind in the trees, the rumble of thunder, and the back-stoop conversations of my neighbors. During the summer what I miss the most is the sound of the rain. Such maudlin soft-heartedness! Judge me not too harshly.

Last night I got to listen to the rain while I lay in bed, for the first time in months. The ground is dry and crunchy and rain is so badly needed. You could almost hear the dry earth and yellow grass drinking in the soak. Every so often, the wind would blow some of the wet into my window and onto my naked legs. For reasons that are unclear to me I became very emotional. I thought of how the world has changed since I was a kid, but at the same time it hasn't changed at all. You may have noticed that, as well. The older you get, the more you notice that, despite all the changing technology, the broad strokes (and many of the finer ones) are exactly the same. The best part about technology is not having to mess around with rabbit ears on the television anymore. I sort of miss the rotary phone, though. It made using the phone more of an event. Cell phones. At times I really hate those fucking things.

I was a strange child, no doubt about it. I was the class clown to some of my friends, but I was also very withdrawn. Clearly, humor was used by me to deflect attention. I'll never forget something that happened with my father when I was around age 12. There was a commercial on television about helping the homeless, and when they showed a guy living on the street I said, "That's going to be me when I grow up." My father, of course, told me that that was crazy. He probably thought it a strange things to say, which it is. But even back then I knew that I wasn't made to flourish in this world.

Last night, something made me cry as I listened to the wind and the rain. Sometimes when I'm alone I withdraw and sink deep into myself, and it's like I'm the last person alive. Or the first. When I'm in that mindset, I often find something that moves me deeply. At the age of 35 I can say that I've had a good life, better than I deserve. I still look forward to the end, but something about the end feels like the beginning all over again. I sure hope I'm wrong about that. In the meantime, I'm going to sit and pat "Toulouse" or "Impy" in my lap and listen to whatever comes in that open window. The world goes by and I listen and watch and am happy to stay out of the way. Sometimes I feel strongly compelled to get involved, especially politically and especially when I was younger. Less so now, to be sure. Perhaps the day will come when I can contribute something real and good to the passing world. Right now, however, I guess I'm fine with being the poor, crazy, bastard who lives on the second floor of a brick building near Boston.

How nice it would be to take my eyes off of my own gravestone, and the stones of those I love, and enjoy, or at least experience totally, the moments that I'm in right now. I think John Lennon once said, "Life is something that happens when you're making other plans." But when one is as focused on existence itself as I am, you don't really make other plans. Life passes you by nonetheless.

When I was a young lad I thought about the bad things in life so much, I couldn't take my eyes off of it. Every awful murder and atrocity I read or heard about stayed with me. I was fixated on the worst of what we could do. At times, it made me physically ill. I remember pounding my head on the wall and saying, "Get out of my head!" The thoughts were so awful. The question I couldn't get away from was, "How am I any different than X." The "X" of course represents the person behind whatever savage abomination was on my mind at the time. The universe doesn't care if I'm kind and compassionate and aspire towards reason or if I'm a psychopath hacking up children in my mother's basement. Because I didn't have god as a kid (atheist at 9) I had to make my own peace with how cruel and nasty the world can be. Particularly the people in it. I think part of the reason that I hate myself so much is because I'm a human being, and I know very well what human beings can do.

I despise capitalism, too, but can understand its elegant appeal. The helotry and despondency, not to mention environmental devestation, caused by poorly regulated capitalism is easy to overlook in our global economy. The people suffering are way over there. In the meantime, I can get cheap tube socks and lead-encrusted toys on sale! Capitalism sickens me, but the people who make up the capitalist economy aren't bad people, they are just part of a bad institution.

I'm timid, methinks, mostly because I don't like what I see in the world. And what I do like I can get from my girlfriend, friends, brother, father, and the rest of my family. The few I talk to, anyway. And that open window, with the sounds and smells and wind and rain...my back row seat to the world passing by. What a spectacle. Hopefully, before I croak or fling myself out an open window, I'll do something good for someone or something. Not that anyone is watching.