This morning I woke up early to the sound of the rain.
I was inspired.
I was hopeful.
I was ready to take on the day full force… but only after I wrote here first.
I wrote a bit.
I read a bit.
For awhile, it was on Twitter… quoting lines from one of the comics I got this weekend while out and about on Free Comic Book day.
And then, nearly almost exactly after I finished my earlier post today… well something else happened.
Silence.
The power went out.
I was so busy with my own distractions that I didn’t even notice.
How many other things do we miss because we are too busy with distractions?
I shrugged it off. I took the dog out. I’d read for a bit and write for a bit… the old fashioned way and kill some time contemplating and reflecting about life.
This weekend there had been a discussion about how the world “just needs a day to shut the fuck up.” That sometimes (read: often) people just talk too damn much. I thought about that a lot today… in the silence.
I really do talk too damn much sometimes.
I walked the dog. I’m currently dog sitting for a friend of a friend. One constant through my recent travels through the city has been the presence of dogs in most places where I’ve laid my head… and felt comfortable.
Perhaps this isn’t a coincidence. I mean… there are too many damn cat fanatics out there. Strange strange creatures that they are… on the interwebz.
On my walk I would find out an expiration date: the power would be out until 8:30pm tonight. There were “too many other emergencies” that the LADWP simply couldn’t keep up. I looked online on my phone. I saw the mass amounts of orange dots on the grid. I should have taken a screenshot. It was pretty brutal.
The aftermath of the Revenge of the 6th Power Outage in Los Angeles
Well Los Angeles, I guess this is your chance to shut the fuck up for a few minutes. What are you going to do with your life?
I started to read. I laughed as I thought about the power being dead on my Kindle. About how despite the convenience of technology, how much I was still thankful for books.
For piles of analog transmissions and thumbed pages.
Of that new book smell.
Of that old book smell.
Of the joy of turning a page in anticipation of the next.
It’s these simple things that make me smile. But the day wasn’t over just yet.
“I have a secret anger and rage for every beautiful flower.”
And I did too. In secret. In not so secret.
But the rains poured on.
Dogs all over the neighborhood were furious- barking constantly as if maybe that would restore the power.
Neighbors complained that they were stuck. Technology had failed them. They couldn’t get out of their parking garages. After all, those were electric too. Oh the convenience of technology.
Machines in the apartment blipped and beeped incessantly begging for power.
Begging for purpose.
Cars outside honked. Impatience surrounded the neighborhood. Everyone seemed to want to escape.
Everyone refused to shut the fuck up.
Everyone, it seemed, for once, except me.
I conserved what little power I had left on my phone. I turned to books. I turned to words. I was going to sit there and face my demons in that silence. In that quiet… oh in that quiet…
I’ve found myself missing pieces of my past quite a bit lately. Yes yes I know, move forward, not backwards. But something about this last time was different. Something about this last one changed my life.
Before it rained, it was like something in me knew. I sent out a message to the world. To you, the person I really hoped would be reading.
“It’s in the quiet that I miss you most.”
So there it was… the gift of quiet. I sat there.. in the “dark” and thought about life. I thought about pain. I thought about love. I thought about success. I thought about failure. I thought about…
“The manic equivalent of looking in a mirror and unplugging an appliance.”
And in the silence I just.. broke down.. but not how I thought I would.
In the simplest of terms and bits and “sound bytes”… these are not all the reasons but they are the ones I will share with the rest of the world right now.
I am tired of the pain.
I am tired of the anger.
I miss the passion.
I miss the love.
I miss the vibrancy and light that exuded from us both whenever we looked at each other.
I miss your silly Barney Rubble laugh.
It was quiet. I grabbed a pen. The words flowed like water. It was a downpour of inspiration. Rain seems to have that effect on me.
And then it happened.
Someone, somewhere not too far away started playing a piano. Beauty came from the silence. In a world where fingers and thoughts might have been too busy to notice otherwise there was… magic.
I smiled, still quiet, in the company of notes. Because even if I was alone I didn’t feel alone. It made me remember the simplicity of it all. About how far we’ve all come from it. About how far I’d come from it.
And myself.
“It’s in the quiet… when I miss you… when I miss me… that I find all the answers. Of all the simple beauty. Of why I keep trying.”
Thank you LA DWP for this forced moment of silence. It was exactly what I needed today.
I am an Enigma 