Posts Tagged ‘ Peace’

My Landlord Died

Posted on March 30, 2009

Steve liked the Tall Ships. He told me so.

Steve liked the Tall Ships. He told me so.

My landlord died today.
That’s actually not true. He died last week, but I just learned of it today.
It’s funny how egotistical death can become when it has little to do with you.
As I relay the news to my mother, I’m surprised by my phrasing,“He died, and it’s so shocking because I just spoke to him last Thursday.”
Wow. That was self-absorbed, even for me.
Further, this is a complete and utter non sequitur. His death is not at all shocking because I spoke to him on Thursday, it’s just shocking whenever a 48 year old man suddenly dies.
Still, I rationalize that when dealing with something as mystifying as death, maybe the ego is all there is. After all, we cannot reflect on that which we do not understand, and we can’t cope with that which we cannot reflect upon, so instead of admitting defeat, we tether our thoughts and rationalizations to some form of reality, no matter how incongruous.

This is our simple, human way of making real that which we typically shun.
We eschew these thoughts, forcibly containing them while praying that they remain latent, because focusing on them strips us of the need to live at all.
Why bother? Why should I try, when the end might very well be at hand?
It could be now. Or Now. Or NOW.
Still here? How bout now?
Exactly.

This game could totally continue thus preventing any other games (like the game of life, for instance) from ever being played at all, so we implore upon the very soul of these thoughts that they stay hidden as long as possible.
They obey and sit quietly behind all the more developed thoughts.
Until they do not.
And suddenly, you’re living in a dead man’s condo considering everything that you know about him which isn’t much and realizing that you’re more affected than you should be, which is not exactly enough to make a difference anyway…

Steve. Soloman. Or SolomOn.
I still don’t know which is correct. I’ve effed that up every month.
I’m sure I’ll eff it up again this month.

Apparently, the check is still made out to him.

It’s totally sinking that I have to write a very large check to a man who I know is not able to cash it, place it in an envelope, put a stamp on it, drop it in the mail and send it to his grieving widow.That feels like something of a cruel joke.
Maybe I’ll tape two Xanax to the check to give her the strength to deposit it.
Yes, that seems like the humane thing to do.
Where was I?
Oh yes. Steve. What do I know about Steve?

Steve was a wise investor.
Steve bought this magnificent loft condo 14 years ago for $115,000 and it is now worth around $500,000. Hmph.
This is not making me feel better. What if Steve’s heirs would prefer cash over the headache of tenants? No, no, no…we are focusing on Steve…

OK, when Steve lived here, he built a platform in the loft and used that as his bedroom instead of sleeping in the actual bedroom. I’ve always thought that was strange.

Steve’s brother fixed the dishwasher when it broke.
Apparently, Steve’s brother is a professional dishwasher repairman.
They came over way too early one Saturday morning and Brother of Steve lectured me on the perils of using the liquid dish detergent. It clogs the sensitive drainage system.
The powder is better. Duly noted Brother of Steve. Powder, it is.
The Brother stepped outside to smoke and Steve and I made awkward conversation about The Weather Channel (yeah, not even the weather itself, but the channel dedicated to covering it.)
Then we spoke of the view.
I’d marveled about how fast the clouds seemed to move over the water and how each day the colors reflected upon the buildings seemed different.
He said he’d stopped noticing that sort of thing. He said he’d become used to it.
I remember that in that moment, this made me sad.
But somehow, by the time I recounted the story to the Spouse, there was more than a hint of ire in my voice.
And now I feel bad.
Sorry, Steve. I’m sorry for dogging your views on the view… I’m sure you had your reasons.

Steve liked IHOP. At least, Brother of Steve liked IHOP. I’m going to assume that Steve did too. IHOP is great. Apparently, Steve paid for his brother’s services in pancakes.
I’d like to pay for things in pancakes.

I’ve spoken to Steve only a few times since our introduction last summer.
We’ve had some memories…
Like the random Thursday last August when I illegally broke-in and began painting the walls and Steve came by…
That was fun.

The Spouse and I recently had a bit of a row over whether I should contact Steve regarding the ill-fitting window screens. I felt that he should fix them.
The Spouse suggested I may not want to specifically invite unnecessary inspection of the ‘art’ that I’d inflicted upon his hallway. And bedroom. And bathrooms.
It seems that landlords have been known to frown upon additions of ‘rock walls’ to their condos.
I didn’t call him.

And while I apparently needn’t have worried about the rock wall situation, I wonder if it’s insane to worry about a ghost situation. He lived here for 14 damn years.
He only moved out a year ago and it was only because he got married and thought buying a house would be the ‘grown-up’ thing to do.
I totally saw his wistful smile as he described his bachelor days in the loft.
I really liked Steve Soloman. or SolomOn.
But I’m having enough trouble dealing with the phantoms currently haunting about my world, so I hope Steve is satisfied with his journey and has no inclination to look back and re-write any pages. And mostly I hope that wherever he is, the view is mind-blowing. Because everything is better when the view blows your mind.

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Daniel Farraday was DEAD ON….

Posted on September 19, 2008

“The light… it’s strange out here, isn’t it? It’s kind of like, it doesn’t, it doesn’t scatter quite right…” - Daniel Farraday

How right you are Daniel…how right you are. I have ADD…seriously cannot sit still, mind plowing though questions, issues, scenarios, what-if’s at a trillion miles per nano-second. That kind of ADD. UNTIL, I took my ADD on a steller vacay and transported it to the land beyond time, Beyond worry. Beyond anything except “Aloha, See ya in the water, and Mahalo” Oh, and “where is that tremendous flowery smell coming from!!!!????”

Suffice it to say that Maui is the place the Girl and Spouse of the Water must be. The breaths we breathed and the moments we allowed ourselves to become….THAT my friends, is LIFE! And while I will always love well made clothes and silky cutains ith the perfect accent chair or um, hat, I find myself wondering just how important it all really is. I was sick of everything before….mostly sick of myself. Going against myself. Against what I desired to do or say. Against, the knowledge that I had and let go of and needed so desperately to find. I found it there. In that simplest most complex place. I missed you blog. I missed the out pourings nightly (and daily too). But I’m back, Hopefully different, but here nonetheless. I love NY (ESPECIALLY) in the Fall crispness. The smell intoxicates my being. But so does a Maui sunset. Sigh.

Peace Becomes Her

Peace Becomes Her

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