kids always live in Inception…

this entry will be lame and boring and possibly unreadable as it is motivated by whiny loneliness.

well, it’s snowing again. adam is happy on the floor, he has spread out 3 coloring books, crayons and markers, a racetrack and cars – he colors and hums for a couple minutes, then puts down the marker and drives a car around the track.  it’s only a matter of minutes before the worlds cross over, one of the coloring books is open to a maze page…

second cup of coffee is doing nothing. it’s 10:30am but might as well be 7:35 as far as my waking-up process is concerned (7:35 was 5 minutes after i woke).

ONE hour later. adam and i have eaten half a package of turkey bacon, discussed fire-eating, other normal things. his worlds are overlapping. there is an alligator on the freeway ramp. dinosaur in the animal fortress office, using the computer. gorilla in the firetruck.

we may both be getting sick. we alternate sneezing fits, and he’s getting blue under the eyes. he wants to sit on my lap. that’s sort of abnormal. i will go, so he can.

10pm. eric came home on time and we played all evening. also i’m staying a gemini.

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new year’s revelations

eric and i were in the back booth at red lobster on new year’s eve, early evening – we had what the two of us consider the best booth in any place, and the best seat for each of us at the table – he was in the godfather seat in the corner, back to the wall, facing out, seeing everyone coming going in out, i was facing three dead bushes full of swallows and thrushes, and a pinking skyline above a parking lot low enough to maintain my anonymity.

we were primed for people-watching.

the thing is, smartphones.

fuck smartphones.

i married an observer, and i am an observer, and we discreetly stare and discuss and assess, glance and turn and murmur, speculate and ruminate. little by little there is less behavior to observe…

people are at their most interesting when bored, waiting – slightly uncomfortable, almost where they want to be in time and space. how people fill the moments in between moments are what DEFINE them. chainsmoke and daydream. tilt against the car’s headrest and fold your lip between thumb and forefinger with an unaware scowl. shake a foot. pick at shoelaces. slyly watch others. OPENLY watch others. initiate or be drawn into small talk with strangers. blank, become lost in worlds behind their eyes. play piano on their kneecaps. hum. pace. anything. everything. nothing.

text. check facebook pages. google. thumbs thumbs thumbs. that’s it. stare at the palms of their hands, imprinting lifelines into the backs of their smartphones.

this of course has been long happening – it’s a progressive disease. observers have progressively been robbed of quiet time-wasting behavior to observe…

it really crystallized at the table: the thrushes had gone, across the aisle was another married couple (each with a smartphone in their hands), slightly below me was a row of cars. two were occupied, next to each other. a large white old lady van, a small and sleek black SVU. in the van was a woman in her late 50’s, cardigan, gold glasses. in the svu, a girl in her ealy 20’s, buddy holly glasses, severe ponytail, long thin cigarette. both glanced sporadically up and around, both waiting.

under (what i consider) normal circumstances, the similarities in behavior would end there, and any following similarities would be interesting anomalies. but those were normal circumstances 10 years ago. on new year’s eve 2010, these two women were locked in the exact same time-killing behavior: twiddling their thumbs over tiny keyboards, studying tiny screens.

disappointment is relative. the sky was pink, after all.

and as addicted to my palm as i am, or WE are (eric included), they stayed off the table during dinner. if the couple in the booth opposite had put their phones away, maybe they would have closed 2010 in a more interesting way –  impulsive wig buys, psycho beach party, nudity and debauchery and laughter.

my posts are usually pointless. i thought this one was especially time-relevant.

i am in mourning for boredom.

there. sealed in internet amber.

to all of you – in 2011,  look up from your mini-computers, lock eyes with the flesh closest to you – and make a stop at the lion’s den.