You Need Help

by

Starting that?

He asked me in thick, Russian accent.

“I know how to start.”

He came over from next door.

I had not even realized he was there, sitting in the passenger seat of the car in front of the house to the left, watching me trying to start the scooter.

Two quick thrusts and he had it going.

It is me.

I paid attention, however, not just to the thick layer of grease and black grime on the man’s hands, he must have been working on his car in the driveway and had stopped to sit and have a smoke, but to how he positioned his foot on the kickstart.

When I had the opportunity to re-start it later, I placed my foot exactly like he had and it kicked right over.

Unfortunately.

Yes, come on now, you know there was going to be something to follow.

It died on me a lot tonight.

While I was riding it.

Just suddenly, no juice, motor died.

Good night.

In traffic.

At a stop sign.

As I was about to go through a red light turning green.

As I was turning down Church Street.

The Church street incident was actually rather funny, I just let the scooter coast right to where I was going, parking it in front of the church across from SafeWay.

However, the ride home was a little intense.

It only happened in first gear.

So I wonder about that.

And I was able to restart it without having too much trouble.

It was just trouble in that I was in traffic.

The thee times it happened on my way home I was able to pull over to the meridian or to the intersection in the cross walk and get it going again without interrupting the flow of traffic too much.

I would like to not have that experience again.

It had gas.

So, not sure what’s the deal.

At least she’s started.

In other news.

There is not much news.

Just  a quiet Sunday.

Loads done, writing, photography, hike in the dunes down by Ocean Beach, went grocery shopping, did laundry, made homemade split pea soup with veggies and chicken and brown rice, canned and froze up a batch for the week, totaled up my spending for the month of May, balanced my check book, wrote out my spending plan for the month of June.

You know.

Life.

I even sat and read a couple of magazines for an hour with a cup of tea.

It was a Sunday.

There was a minute or two when I felt lonely, but I realized that alone and lonely are two very diffrent things and I am not ever alone.

I need the quiet, but I can get isolated, so I made some phone calls and I let myself be still for a little while, getting in a fifteen minute meditation helped.

There can be a kind of melancholy to Sundays.

There was thick, cool fog, most of the day as well.

At one moment, I thought the sun was going to manage to cut through it, but it never quite pushed off.

I was surprised when I rode my scooter into the Lower Haight and down towards Church Street, to see that there actually had been sun in the city today.

I wasn’t living in the studio this time last year, still getting my feet underneath me living out at Grace Land and working in North Berkeley predominately.

I did not have the fog experience.

It is an experience.

It was coming in full gale force as I was riding back from my commitment this evening.

There is a chilly kind of romance to it, swaddling the trees, the thick clots of it, the smell of sea salt drenching the air, the cold that makes me want to snuggle up by a fire.

I was pretty cold when I got home and hopped into the shower and got in a nice hot de-frosting of my bones.

I get about on the scooter faster than on my bicycle for sure, but the lack of movement in my legs and the sitting on the seat are not inductive to generating body heat.

I’ll be back on the bicycle tomorrow.

There is no point in riding it to Cole Valley.

I will get to work just as fast on my bicycle and won’t be concerned about stalling out in traffic.

I am sure there’s a logical explanation to that as well.

Again,  a surfeit of worry.

Which is nice to have.

I still have plenty of anxiety about other things.

However, as the days collect and the fog condenses, literally around me, I do find myself easing up a little more each Sunday.

I used to cry when I had down time, it freaked me out that bad, to sit still, with myself, or go for a quiet walk on the beach, that was too much me, too much feeling.

I did have a bit of a cry tonight, but really it was just from gratitude for my life and knowing that I may not have the cash and prizes I see others having, I do have a wealth of love in my life when I let myself see it and feel it and experience it.

Even a quiet day in San Francisco, is still a day in San Francisco.

Were I to offer a day like I had today to myself years ago, I would have jumped all over it instead of trying to shy away from it.

Hey lady, how about you cook some homemade soup in your sweet studio by the ocean, write for a while, walk on the beach, drink tea and lounge about with a Vogue on your chaise lounge, and then go for a ride through the Golden Gate Park Panhandle on your vintage 1965 Vespa scooter?

How’s that sound?

Pretty fucking spectacular, if you ask me.

Look ma, no hands.

I mean.

No complaints.

Truly.

Plus, my hair, you know, looks pretty awesome.

And I’m going to Burning Man for the eighth year in a row.

Jah.

Life.

She is good.

Yes, please, help me start my scooter.

I mean, come on, who has neighbors that know how to start a vintage Vespa?

Me.

That’s who.

I have so much.

Especially when I see that I am never, ever alone.

Love is everywhere.

Just look about.

I could be sitting right next to you waiting for you.

It was for me today.

I suspect it will there for me tomorrow too.

 

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: