Saturday with the Sisters of Mercy

Yesterday was a beautiful morning. For no reason at all, since we live in the area, we got lost getting on the Interstate going North to visit some relatives. We went South and pulled off into downtown and began circling back to where we live to get it right this time.

And so doing we drove all through downtown, which was busy and full of faces. I started watching after noticing a middle-aged man standing beside a young woman in pink at a street corner, waiting to cross, and noticed he had his arm held out over her stomach in the way a parent protects a child at a street corner, keeping them back until it’s safe to cross, and from that gesture realized she must be his daughter. Which caught my heart and interest.

We were listening to Leonard Cohen’s “Sisters of Mercy” which has the magic ability to slow time, so that examining every face two feet from me, outside the van, the seconds wore long enough it was as if with each being suspended briefly opposite on a tightrope, then the ends are shaken and leaping I would gently land opposite again another person whose face would sometimes slow turn and find my own, touch eyes. Shake rope. Leap. Fly on.

And so it went.

Touch eyes. Suspend a brief moment longer. Shake rope. Leap. Fly on.

Confound their language, that they may not understand one another’s speech

Betty’s winning job interview. Picture courtesy of H.o.p.

Sat down at the computer at 2:30 and though I’d been working continually with no goofing somehow after three hours I’d not managed to get much done at all when H.o.p. puts on one of his new Betty Boop DVDs and Marty sits down to watch after a minute and says hey come look at this twisted bit of Boop-oop-ee-doo in which Betty is sexually harassed by her employer, calls the police and ends up making out with the boss.

I ask H.o.p. to play it from the beginning as I figure it’s best not to remark upon until I’ve seen the whole seven minutes — and found the tale’s slightly more convoluted.

Continue reading Confound their language, that they may not understand one another’s speech