Serendipitousness

so, just by chance, i ran into an old college friend in the middle of Manhattan on sunday. it was good to catch up with him.

then i ran into another old college friend at the Philly international airport on monday afternoon -- just by chance. we had been talking about her at the wedding i was just at. we got to chat for a bit.

then i ran into a friend from Oasis at the Denver airport that evening. we were on the same flight. we hung out at the baggage claim together.

then today, i ran into a woman i used to work with at this production company in Wilmington, NC. she lives in the same building i used to in Sherman Oaks now.

it's a small world. the U.S. is a little village. i usually have one or two of these random encounters each month -- but 4 in 3 days -- wow -- it's getting smaller.

--NMR

The Song of a Weary Sherman Oaks Resident

"The Love Song of Joe College Student" revisited as "The Song of a Weary Sherman Oaks Resident"





(after T.S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock")





Come with me, dear lady mine,

When the night is fixed on the demon's eye,

Like a small boy enchanted with ancient fables;

Let us wander down paths of decadence,

To question their intents

Of restless wand'rings in sordid, base affairs

And crumbling sidewalks with stories to share:

Sidewalks that drop off like the ebbing sea

And dreams that kill men like me

To lead you to a doubtful depth . . .

Asking now for us to prove it,

We take our faith and quick remove it.


On the street the girls come and go

Talking of Aaron Spelling shows.


The nicotine stench that flows up into our aging veins,

The skunky nicotine stench that flows numbingly over our pains,

Lapped its tongue into the bowl of thirsty water,

Lingered within the backed up sewer mains,

Let swirl into its soul the alcoholic fog,

Tripped by the balcony just jumped,

And knowing that the spring is done,

Wound itself tightly around the apartments, slouched and slumped.


And sure there'll be some time

For the nicotine smoke that rises from the street,

Numbing our pained vessels;

There will be time, there will be time

To remove yourself from your studies to study the self that you see;

There will be a time to break up and to date

And plenty of time to do your studies

To lift your essays high to find your fate;

Time for us and time for we,

And time of course for hesitations,

And for endless altercations,

Before the falling of our innocent tree.



--Nathan MacFarland Rodgers