May 31, 2001
Endings are difficult. Even when they are longed for. Today is my last day of "temping" with the robber barons. The work has dried up and I sit at my desk feeling both guilty and relieved. And bored. The end presumes another start.
It appears that to perform an activity well, usually for monetary reward in our society, is a fundamental part of most people's lives. There seems to be a reward other than the mere getting of money. As I may have mentioned before, this aspect of life seems to have evaded me. I have managed to get some money for a variety of activities, but the other rewards have not been so forthcoming. The fault lies with me of course, and lately I have been taken with the intensity with which people perform their daily work. That glad distraction and pleasure you sometimes see, not always, but sometimes.
When I was working in London as the "assistant" to the movie star I would get up at 5 am in order to extract him from bed and prepare him for the days shoot. I walked for 20 minutes to get from where I lived to his house, from Chelsea to the Cromwell Road. En route I would occasionally encounter a fox. This is not an uncommon sight owing to the patchwork of parkland stitched into the body of Greater London and the availability of edible garbage. The fox would sometimes stop and look at me and I would return the gesture and then we would part. There was something in his purpose and intent, a streamlined tenacity that I envied.
The other living creatures that I would encounter at this hour were men and women perched on slow moving Honda 50 motor cycles. Each bike rider had a clipboard with a map attached vertically to the handlebars. Their heads would swivel from side to side as they progressed, reading street names and making note of landmarks. They were following prescribed routes as part of their study for the notoriously difficult "Knowledge," the exam all London taxi drivers must pass that tests them on various routes, landmarks and the geography of London. Here too were the runes of industry and purpose.
I would always tell the movie star if I had seen a fox on the way to his house. He is a country boy and a fox sighting and my recounting of it would always initiate our day together well. "Did he look at you funny?" "Yes he did, he stopped right in the middle of the road and he said, 'What the hell are you doing on the Old Brompton Road at this hour?' And I said to him, 'I'm going to get a movie star out of bed.'" And the movie star would just leap out of bed without the usual battles that ensued.
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Endings are difficult. Even when they are longed for. Today is my last day of "temping" with the robber barons. The work has dried up and I sit at my desk feeling both guilty and relieved. And bored. The end presumes another start.
It appears that to perform an activity well, usually for monetary reward in our society, is a fundamental part of most people's lives. There seems to be a reward other than the mere getting of money. As I may have mentioned before, this aspect of life seems to have evaded me. I have managed to get some money for a variety of activities, but the other rewards have not been so forthcoming. The fault lies with me of course, and lately I have been taken with the intensity with which people perform their daily work. That glad distraction and pleasure you sometimes see, not always, but sometimes.
When I was working in London as the "assistant" to the movie star I would get up at 5 am in order to extract him from bed and prepare him for the days shoot. I walked for 20 minutes to get from where I lived to his house, from Chelsea to the Cromwell Road. En route I would occasionally encounter a fox. This is not an uncommon sight owing to the patchwork of parkland stitched into the body of Greater London and the availability of edible garbage. The fox would sometimes stop and look at me and I would return the gesture and then we would part. There was something in his purpose and intent, a streamlined tenacity that I envied.
The other living creatures that I would encounter at this hour were men and women perched on slow moving Honda 50 motor cycles. Each bike rider had a clipboard with a map attached vertically to the handlebars. Their heads would swivel from side to side as they progressed, reading street names and making note of landmarks. They were following prescribed routes as part of their study for the notoriously difficult "Knowledge," the exam all London taxi drivers must pass that tests them on various routes, landmarks and the geography of London. Here too were the runes of industry and purpose.
I would always tell the movie star if I had seen a fox on the way to his house. He is a country boy and a fox sighting and my recounting of it would always initiate our day together well. "Did he look at you funny?" "Yes he did, he stopped right in the middle of the road and he said, 'What the hell are you doing on the Old Brompton Road at this hour?' And I said to him, 'I'm going to get a movie star out of bed.'" And the movie star would just leap out of bed without the usual battles that ensued.
- rachael 5-31-2001 5:10 pm