whiskey and yoga redux 

whiskey and yoga redux

for the past few months i have had a recurring dream, variations on a theme of a journey started and interrupted. in each i am attempting to travel somewhere and must make a connection in order to complete the trip home. in each i am in a foreign or unfamiliar setting, usually accompanied. the person(s) with me are only serving to get me to the drop-off point though, and if and when i leave i'll be alone. there are always difficulties in obtaining tickets.

the settings vary. trains often, planes at least twice. last night it was a bus to get to the train that would connect me to the plane. i walked with my companion to the station. we were deep in conversation, juggling my luggage, weaving around the other passengers. we settled in for a wait and lost ourselves again. when i next looked up, the station was empty, and only the disapproving worker there with us, saying "i called the departure twice."

in the dreams i sometimes realize that my distractions-- the conversations with friends, the stopping for a last drink, the chatting up of strangers-- will keep me from getting home, at least for a long while.

it wasn't until this afternoon that i made the connection between this and a song written for my birthday a few years ago. when i first heard it i thought it so sad. also telling-- truer than i wanted it to be.

one verse went:

"Now you stand at the station and you look at the sky
And the train rolled in and it went on by
You had packed up your suitcase, you had saved up the fare
And you don't know why, but you're still standing there"

i am always starting things. and i am not very good at ending them.

"With your barroom poems and your Sinatra songs
With your twenty notebooks each five pages long
With your secret hideout made of leaves and mud
With your pocket knife and your roaring blood"

tonight i went for tea with nena. she asked if i'd been writing and i said no, not really. she grabbed my book and it had the same five pages from the last time we'd met-- the five i'd written that night.

i started a story and i don't know how to finish it.