On Being Not Where You Want To Be

Just not working out.

I am home, doing this. This is not where I want to be right now.

I stood outside the library--across the street from it actually, toeing the curb--in the fucking freezing cold trying to decide what I really really in my heart of hearts wanted to do tonight, where I wanted to be. Then I decided. Then I didn't do it.

I walked into Walgreen's drugstore to buy a notebook to take with me to scribble in. Then I really felt I should buy a nice razor point pen too, to go with it. Then I decided I didn't need the pen. Then I decided not to buy the notebook.

But I wanted to go somewhere other than home, some place warm and reasonably quiet with a nice aroma and good food. A restaurant. A place with soft, low-key lighting--candles on the table would be nice--and a corner booth. I thought at first Dixie Kitchen in Hyde Park which boasts a laid-back staff that is attentive without hovering and wonderful, spicy creole and cajun dishes (Order the fried green tomatoes, johnny cakes and a bowl, not a cup, of the jambalaya. Trust me).

Then I thought, No, it's too damn cold out here to walk it and I don't want to spend the increasingly expensive bus fare (have you seen in the news that the fares are going up? Again?) to go into another neighborhood just eat dinner, especially alone. There's a new soul food place here in Bronzeville, about a block away from me--great food, if a bit pricey--and if I was lucky I'd be ahead of the dinnertime rush and could get a booth. So it was settled; I was going to Chicago's Home of Chicken & Waffles, not to be confused with Roscoe's House of Chicken 'n Waffles, apparently for legal reasons.

Then I realized I didn't have enough cash with me (Why didn't I take that folded-over $20 off my desk and slide it into my wallet the moment I saw it? Why? It would have taken, like, two seconds and I'd have it with me now I need it. What good is it doing me laying on top of Anna Nicole Smith? Such an idiot!) and I didn't want to use plastic, so I came home.

Sigh.

The thing is, what I really wanted to do was to attend MoveOn.org's Big Obama Gathering (a campaign to help the President-Elect pass "a bold progressive agenda") tonight here in Chicago. I got Stephanie L's e-invite yesterday afternoon and hesitated for a long time before finally declining. I saw that something like 19 people had already committed to attend and I guess I was a little freaked out by that. All I could see in my mind's eye was little me walking into a room full of 19 strangers and having to make smart small talk. The very thought left me feeling shy and afraid. Who are those 19 people? Will they all be white? Will they all be young? Younger than me? Of course. Everyone's younger than me. Please don't tell anyone, but sometimes I feel so ancient being 50. I may as well be 90 or 100 or 1000 years old. I'm a relic now, a ruin. If only I were 20 years younger. And about 50, 60 pounds lighter as well. Especially that.

Michael R thinks I'm wonderful, bless his Canadian heart, and he doesn't even know me except through my random postings to Bill's blog. Would I have gone to the Obama meeting if those 19 attendees included him? And Bill? And Grant and Chris and Sue and...

Possibly. Probably not. Likely not. Like-as-not. I was as full of shit and fear 20, 25 years ago as now but at least I looked better. Now I don't even have that.

I am so tired and I feel so old.

I miss Joey. I wish he weren't dead. I hate God for taking my brother from me. I hate myself for not being there for him as he got sicker and sicker, for staying away from his house as he began to fade. I let him down and I loved him so. Did he know that at the end? Did he remember? As I type this, I am remembering Joey and me at ages 10 and 11, electric with energy, wiry and full of spirit in our matching new tees, jeans and spanking white sneakers, having a sidewalk race on a warm and sunny, nearly-summer day. We ran grinning elbow to elbow all the way up Drexel Avenue, and leaping over the cracks so we wouldn't break Mama's back. I don't remember now who won. I think we both did. And we knew all the songs on the radio that year and so did our cousins and friends, which was important. Remember when music was so important, the soundtrack of your life?

Come Together. Sweet Caroline. I Just Can't Help Believing. Aquarius/Let The Sunshine In. Get Together. Everyday People. You Showed Me. This Magic Moment. Time of the Season. It's Your Thing.

I should have gone to that Obama campaign meeting.

I am going to get something to eat.