~6:00 pm on the dashboard clock. Sigh. 14 hours. And It ain’t over. ‘Tis the Season. For office holiday parties.
It’s a short drive to the event, from Work, from the office, to a suburban restaurant. The car edges forward, held back by rush hour traffic, the stop and go, and a sea of red tail lights lighting up the darkness.
How does one makes sense of it? The 360° turn. The jackknife. The Man who leaves the at-home comfort, the warm cocoon of his desk at work, to this. From Krishnamurti’s You are the Everything. To…You are something far less than that.
Irreconcilable differences.
The small room is crowded. An introvert’s haunted house. Small talk, tight spaces, no obvious way out.
Tracy Chapman’s Fast Car…You got a fast car – I got a plan to get us out of here.
The small talk. The dread. The ever-present doom that suffocates the mind, that blackens all things. [Read more…]