Thursday, September 19, 2013

Sole Searching

The "'Round the State of Concrete Gardens Tour" continues for Yours truly today.  Having spent Monday in Middlesex County, Tuesday in Hudson County and yesterday in Bergen County, today's land of laughs and giggles is Mercer County.  Nothing quite as exhilirating as an early morning jaunt to Trenton.  Well, that is not entirely true.  I can think of any number of things that surpass a weekday morning in Trenton on the exhiliration-o-meter.  I cannot however think of a single one - not even one - that pays the mortgage as effectively as the way in which I shall spend this morning.  Ah hindsight.  Thou art a heartless bitch.

At one point I thought that I was going to spend a piece of my day in Trenton catching up a bit with an old friend I have not seen since law school.  Best laid plans of mice and men I reckon.  Tuesday evening he sent me an e-mail telling me he had to cancel.  Next time perhaps.  Perhaps.  Or then again, perhaps not.  My initial reaction to seeing his e-mail was one of regret.  But that was a short-lived reaction.  The longer term reflexive response was one of relief.  Relief that the likely chasm between reality and expectation would be left unplumbed until - at the earliest - some other day. 

I am a notoriously poor "Glory Days" guy.  One of the reasons why the oxymoron that is "Social Media" holds the appeal for me that it does is that it is a vehicle that assists me in keeping the world at what I consider to be its minimum safe distance from me:  arm's length.  While I enjoy having re-established contact with a number of folks I had lost contact with over the years, when all of us are in the same place we spend scant little time playing "Remember When?"  I presume that is because all of them - either as individuals or as a collective - have as little stomach for it as do I. 

When I die - and stop dancing the jig you had just started for I woke up this morning feeling fine so I reasonably anticipate that I shall make it through today, it is reasonable to presume that the official cause of death shall not be "Absence of Sentimentality".  Make no mistake however.  I am not a sentimentalist.  To the contrary, I subscribe to the Pete Hamill view on the subject, "Sentimentality is always about a Lie.  Nostalgia is about real things gone.  Nobody truly mourns a Lie."

Depending upon how long it takes in court this morning, I might grab a bite to eat before I start the long drive north to Parsippany.  Table for one please.  For that is how I roll.


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