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Unrelenting Quality Of Quality
I got an email from one of those friends from that ever lengthening distant past. One of those people whom--you don't realize, at the time you are first meeting them--are setting the benchmark against which future friends will be measured. She sent me one of those comical American maps depicting a not so comical rendering of the religious diversity in America and which suggests that Canada might be a better model. Once I was up near that town in Washington state where Raymond Carver spent his last years and I saw signage for Canada and another time I was in Bonners Ferry, Idaho and saw signage for Canada. I was both times sort of afraid of what kind of illegal matter might drop from the crevices of my being and did not want to bother the border guards with it. I'm sure Canada is a fine place and does not suffer from my lack of attendance. I guess I would be more interested in knowing what Canada does suffer from before I held it up on too high a pedestal. I had already received or viewed this map from several different sources. I did not consider this map the meat of the email, although perhaps my friend would not have sent me a message at all if not for the prop value of the map. So, I am not without some regard for GW Bush and his ability to bring people closer together. Likewise, this same friend checked in with me after the fall of the NY towers, even though I was nowhere near them (in New Orleans) and she was nowhere near them (in Los Angeles) and so I must retain a similar regard for Osama bin Laden. This isn't me making lemonade from lemons because I have relocated to a place on the east coast where if I want lemonade I can walk into a quaint village and buy it for five dollars a pint. I don't drink a lot of lemonade.
I witnessed Fall colors this year, in both Pennsylvania and Virginia, of the type that inspires calendars and coffee table books, and I at times became uncomfortable, resentful even, of the unrelenting quality of the quality. Which probably only proves that you can take the malcontent from the ghetto but you can't take the ghetto from the malcontent. Responding to her email with map attachment I tried to break down the inexplicable nature of my discontent, referring to the coloration experience as a month long acid-trip. I suggested past experience which allowed me to consider such a thing as undesirable. She emailed back and suggested that I get ready for a four year acid trip. She was making a political statement.
There are drugs for dealing with drugs (Thorazine will often cancel that acid trip for you) but I honestly cannot recommend any of them and would be remiss in not mentioning that many drugs on the market today have side effects which include death. Of these you should be very careful. Because life, I think, is very good. Not despite all the shit but because of it. Sometimes, and I mean only sometimes, sobering up is a good thing. Is everyone sober now? Don't you feel good?
Do you ever get confused about what good feels like?