Relaxing, finally, at a genuine bakery with a New York staple – the buttered roll. What took her so long to find this place especially after all the times she’d walk by it over the past two years like she did yesterday no less! (Ok, a string of thoughts in the present, sitting here now.) It said bakery in the name. Thank goodness the light finally clicked on. “All those days pining for something that no other café offered, yet all the while this one did. All their sweet junk, gooey iced scones – blasphemy!” Of course the cappuccino was American size, a small soup bowl that beats a large coffee mug any day, too much milk, but it was good enough not to need sugar sprinkled over the top. “I do like the sugar…” Working her way through froth what Ruth could taste of the coffee wasn’t so bad. It sure wasn’t New York but it’d do.
“Take small things when they come around. The time! Better stop writing, got to get to work.”
She put the iPad away.
Were you really silly enough to think I’d go without seeing you first? That was an update and a place I went in 1986.
If you thought I was given a gift for Christmas to travel, the first question you should have asked was “when are you departing and how many days before that will you be here?”
I’d been up past midnight trying to find a flight that would get me to you. Christmas was the same deal because of the snow. How about a little faith? You are first on the list… nothing else.
The prompt was “outside a shop in China Town, San Francisco” :
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “go.”
The sea was cold today. I sat upstairs, the ferry’s engine rumbled; as we floated back turning toward open water I felt the icy spray. I admire how gulls light on the surface bobbing with ripples and crests, unmoved and unimpressed. They have the good life but what about the rest?
It causes me to consider.
Creationism at it’s worst; splitting the atom – creation energy in a tube – all impressive. I remember don’t eat of this fruit, you’ll make yourself a god knowing good and evil and be exiled from the garden. Respect, knowing and forms make the garden that I see. Am I alone? Doesn’t anyone agree?
The sea is rough as well as cold; icy spray refreshes from thought. Dolphins swim along side laughing out loud at the cloudy sky; the junction where currents collide impress them not as they dance. I watch. Thoughts become present again.
Brutalized by students. They act out, they cheat, they reason, “we’re legion and she’ll never know, we can get away with crime” or at least it is in their mind but why would one want to loot in the dark? Why is the aspiration to outwit what’s right, because it can’t see? But, it can. They don’t know me. Yet there’s no victory if I identify each one. Did I prevail? No though I asked their help, they directed me. I paid for their responsibility, for the responsibility of the higher ranking than me as far up as the principal and here I sit. My heart aches, is heavy, and I wonder if I should have let them rule the day accepting my fate. But, I’m a teacher. I thought it was my job, to guide, to teach, to show the right way. Let’s make your teacher happy who’s gone these couple days. Let her see how much you can do, your commitment, the contract… I’m exhausted.
I hope life goes on. What an awful way to feel.
Bennett said Nietsche is dead, God remains, but Nietsche’s writings remain too his spirit present, his thoughts survive. Now what do we do? The ferry has docked; I think I’ll walk and get a fish sandwich to go with an espresso to take the chill; then up to a top floor and rooftop café overlooking the city above fog, pollution and mist. What can I say? Even cloudy it can be a good day.
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