sunday november 12, 2006
los angeles international airport 10:32AM
it’s all nonsense.
this clean shaven face full of 2 day’s stubble. the hair on the head perhaps now too long.
“i want a hat to match the face, i’m in disguise, darlin’, don’t want to call too much attention to myself.”
in fact i don’t exist.
“you can’t see me, but you know i’m here.”
i’m about to board flight 1899. i’m on delta flight 1899. seat 10D. i am the row directly behind first class. oh so close. . . i have leg room. i am on the aisle. i like to look out the window. i love to see the earth below. i just love it.
people are happy on this flight. a lot of smiles. so many smiles. i am in love. with my life.
i am ready to begin our work that we’ve already begun. i am ready to continue. i am fascinated by people.
i downloaded 4 cd’s onto this computer this morning. wilco, van
morrison and the chieftans, the cranberries and morphine. the wilco sounded good.
i wish i would have given my dad a hug before leaving this morning. i didn’t know if he was awake when i left. i wish i would have tried. he is healthy. he seems more at peace than ever. there is a sadness to the peace. such a big and generous life setting in quiet.
from sri lanka to warsaw to detroit to san carlos. now my hard working good father alone in pasadena. oxygen tubes in his
nose to help his breathing. to assist his “weakening” heart. to me his heart seems stronger than ever.
i am grateful to a.r.t. for flying me to los angeles during this transition. so worth it. my dad and my dear friends. paul and anne and john and hannah and syd and clay and harry and heidi and arthea and cusi and peter and julian and craig and dear dear meena. los angeles is nice. i could live here. in a pinch.
“home is people.”
i am seeking my home. in the world. the journey my home for now. boston calls. i am a harvard man.
“fare forward traveler. . .
i am flying east. above the clouds above america. committed to my life. hungry as a laughing tic in heat. boston love.
about 4PM EST
somewhere over the mid-western part of america about halfway between canada and mexico.
18% battery power. the warning just now appearing. reserve battery, seek ac connection. i want to communicate with this warning; i am flying over america. there are no outlets, bitch!
i will be a 5 hour train ride from new york. that is nothing for a train ride. a 5 hour plane ride is long.
so i have a sense that i will either have to grow my beard back or cut my hair shorter. i look forward to changing my look. in life. i have a sense that i am about to enter a period of dressing well and trying to look good. these thought seeds being planted now.
perhaps damiel should be very well put together. fit my appearance to the versace suit. no longer play against it. this would mean a serious haircut. then, when i become human, it will be this, perhaps elegant man acting “homeless”. acting odd for a guy in a great suit. we should explore that contradiction.
someone who looks completely put together, someone who would fit well at any high class social function yet acting as if he were “mad”. Like a child. free. curious. joyful with no desire to contain the joy. no desire to be cool. to be socially appropriate. just someone newly alive at the very beginning of self-consciousness.
i am now going to read the entire script while listening to bach’s
cello on the ipod. i am blessed into excitement. i am excited by the blessings. grateful to the point of bursting.
waiting for baggage at logan airport. i’ll just wait. not say or write a word. welcome home.
monday november 13, 2006 12:18AM cambridge, massachusetts
in my apartment. tired and ready to sleep.
here i am.