Good mail for a Monday

September 21, 6:08 am

Sometimes I don't mind the night shift at all.

When people ask how I cope with the schedule I don't really have much bad to say because like everyone, I've found upsides in my situation and do my best to focus on those. Every job I've ever had, I found moments that were each uniquely special. When I was on mornings, my favorite times were the 5am bike ride in to campus, now that I'm on nights its the thin hint of sunrise along the horizon on the way home. That light is amazing; pre-dawn glow comes up from under your feet. Barely enough light to make out the path.

Sitting on the front porch at 5:30, I know I'm the only one watching a wrestling match between two albino squirrels in the tree across the street...with a beer in my hand.

You pick your moments. Each becomes special unto itself.

A freak hail storm came through last night and I missed it, in my well insulated cocoon at work. Some hail. The trees in the neighborhood really took a beating, there were leaves and small limbs down everywhere. Its a fitting metaphor; I frequently seem to walk in at the end as of late.

The mail included treasure today, my recent eBay purchase. A DVD copy of Tom Waits: Big Time. I put it on and as the first few numbers played, I suddenly realized how I was completely caught up in the aesthetic Tom creates. I read Innocent When You Dream and a collection of 20 years worth of interviews with Waits simultaneously. I saw two sides of a dirty coin; Innocent When You Dream is biographic, but with the interviews its all embellished truth mixed with hobo legends. Things he thought up on the spot, some old chestnuts he pulled out over and over. The problem is no one knows what the proportions of each are. Sometimes the interview gives a little insight to a moody nature. Sometimes he's just a jerk. But this persona of a well-traveled loner...a man who has existed (and even thrived) for so long on the fringe...well, he must have some incredible stories.

I started to wonder.

I wonder if the fact that I've romanticized this persona for so long...if it hasn't actually manifested itself in my life. For real. I wonder if this tendency of mine to shy away from groups, to not actively make more of an effort to socialize...I wonder if I haven't somehow brought this on myself.

But even this strange loner has secret desires of...being home. The most seasoned leathertramp must occasionally want to let the engine cool for awhile...and be around people that are important to him. Say what you will about the delivery; I love the lyrics on this one. Pure beat poetry. Its the feeling of distance I identify with, but the whole story is so evocative I feel like I walked along right beside him the day it all happened. By the end, I was just as ready to leave as he was:

...I wondered how the same moon outside
over this Chinatown fair
could look down on Illinois
and find you there
and you know I love you Baby

and I'm so far away from home
and I miss my Baby so
I can't make it by myself
I love you so

Shore Leave...

I have to wrap up here. Tom is doing his Civil War pregnancy bit.