A Nectar Day in Radland

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Alfred Lord TennysonEver have one of those days where everything seems to be "clicking" for you?

While pulling into the (crowded) lot at the coffee shop this morning, I spied the ideal corner spot. But another car (from the opposite direction) beat me to it. Drat!

I looked around. No other space was even close. So I put the car in reverse. But instead of pulling into the spot, the guy in the SUV backed up, then went forward and drove off.

While passing, he motioned me forward and called out, saying (with a big smile), "Go ahead! You guys are worth it."

Before leaving, I mosied over to his table and thanked him for making my day. "Nice way to start the day," I said.

Sitting across from him was his friend, who related a story where, after pulling into a parking spot at a taco joint yesterday (up in LA), he heard (while talking on his cell) someone pounding on his trunk, saying, "You took my space." We all had a good laugh.

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Also, while sipping my coffee there (after eating our bagel), I was reading to the Bug (while he sat on my lap) a Pooh-book .. when I felt something touch my shoulder. There stood an older man, dressed in a sharp suit, who said, "Just wanna commend you. That's the best thing for them."

Later, at the Back Bay, the Bug came running around a bend in the dirt path, laughing, happy as pie, with a handful of rocks, ready to throw them in the water.

Flowers have grown up, covering the entire area. Purple, white and yellow flowers .. taller than he is. Hard to describe, but the sight made my heart sing.

Gorgeous morning, too. A guy wandered down the dirt path, wearing a tie and a fedora, while reading a book. I recognized him from the coffee shop a week ago. "Whatcha reading?" I called out.

"Poetry," he said. "Who," I queried, my curiosity piqued. "Dylan Thomas," he replied. "Ah, one of my favorites," I shared, ".. after Tennyson."

"You know the dark-side then," he said. "I've been known to visit on occasion," I quipped. "Please read us some," I urged.

So while the Bug threw rocks in the water (where every week his distance improves), amid all these flowers, taller than him, this guy (dressed up with fancy shoes and wearing a fedora) read us some great poetry in the bright winter sun. Surreal.

The whole day has been like that. I'll try to share more later, but the Bug just woke from his nap. Gotta run. Ciao. (I also have a wild dream to share.)

I've read that poets are simply people who feel things more deeply, or intensely, than the rest of us .. that they haven't become calloused by the world, or that they have trouble filtering out the ugliness. And that this hyper-sensitivity makes it difficult for them to live in the world (where people can be so cruel). Wonder if that's true.

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This page contains a single entry by Rad published on March 5, 2008 6:27 PM.

Finally Able to Relax + A Letter from the Inbox was the previous entry in this blog.

Cancelled Account with Lunarpages - End of an Era is the next entry in this blog.

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