Yes, one of the longstanding and fundamental tenets of my philosophy.
Inspired by the beauty of the day, and approaching departure and move, I went for a jog in my soon to be, no longer living here, town of Mountain View CA.
This was also my first gallivant with my new AIRMAX kicks... They were sick. They looked clean and performed mean. But I mostly felt pretty out of shape. And dehydrated from two grande cappuccinos at star bucks earlier. I forgot to drink water. But I did eat a bacon, egg 'n gouta snack thing. It was okay.
So I strapped myself into my killer new boots and blasted off!!! on a perilous gallivant about town.
I crossed treacherous 4 lanes streets. Busy ass intersections. And the Cal-train tracks. not once, but twice. Once the first time entering on to Central Expressway from Castro. And the second, after I had to turn around. Apparently Central Expressway prohibits pedestrians taking the Central to Shoreline interchange by foot. I am good guy. So I didn't risk it. But I think I may have crossed a "no pedestrian zone" on my way BACK over the tracks. At that pont, I really had enough with the "No Pedestrians" zones. And I had just committed a cold-blooded jay walk anyway. So I said fugg-it. I dropped my chin and with the determination of a steam-powered railroad tycoon robot, I made a fucking bolt for it.
About 5 blocks and maybe 2 minutes later - I passed the police station. I did notice that the Mtn. View Police camp doesn't reek of bacon as much as I had expected it to. Too bad. And I carried on. Pass the firehouse on Shoreline I steepled a waist-high street obelisk thing at the corner of California and Shoreline. I rounded the corner onto Mountain View Ave and booked the homestretch with a kick rivaling a former version of myself! Yeah right... I walked around the block counter-clockwise. Thinking about how awesome it would be to turn back time. Like what I usually think about.
After returning home, I was interrupted by the beauty that was a westcoast sunset... in Mountain View. So it occurs to me that I've never actually made use of the ladder in backyard. Especially not to climb on the roof of my studio loft. Not in all my 5 years here. Oh well. Maybe for the better. I probably would have been catching rays of sun and working on my full-body tan like a cover model for a romance novel. I probably would have shoe leather skin by now.
Anywho, I set up the ladder and went to grab my camera. The camera was in the trunk of the car. So I need my keys to the car. Wait... where are my keys? After a few 100 aimless passes around the house looking for the keys. I become a little concerned. So I do what I normally do when I begin to fret a little bit... I made my bed. Actually this requires a side note, because I don't have a bed. I sleep on the floor. And after about one week, my neck begins to pay the toll... So I folded and hung the blankets over the loft rail. No keys. I organized all the papers remaining in my house. No keys. I looked around frantically for the umpteenth time. Still no keys. I checked every possible pocket they may potentially be in. No keys.
Now, I am really starting to freak out. What if they were gone? How will I get my car to Nevada before I move? Where are my spare keys? I think in the trunk of my car. Or the spares might actually be in that box. The one in the storage back in Nevada... All the way back in fucking Nevada! Wait how will anybody know what box to look in? Especially if I can't even remember where I put my fucking keys? SHIT!!!
Okay. Calm down. This happens all the time. Actually just sometimes. But they always turn up. And sometimes, even in the silliest of locations! When did you last have them? Before going to starbucks. I took them to starbucks. I knew that was not wise. But no biggie. Maybe they are at starbucks. Someone probably turned them in. Should I call? No wait... maybe they are on the street between my house and starbucks. Shit! it has been a couple hours at least. They would certainly be gone. They must be. Shit. Okay I need to backtrack my steps. I need to do a broad sweep all the way back to starbucks. Lets go... I get a quarter of the way down the block and I realize I will need to go inside starbucks. They probably appreciate a shirt there. Shit. Turn around. Let's try this again... Lack of sleep will do this to you.
Star backs didn't have my keys but they took my number in case anyone turns them in... After doing an extensive deep-cycle, broad-range, super-scan without a headlamp - the headlamp was locked in the back of the car. I begin to concede that I probably lost my keys today. Yay! But how could it be? This has never happened to me before. Not at this magnitude. I had such a surefire system. And for as long back as I could remember, I never lost my car keys. But my system forsook me. It had a latent failure. A hidden flaw. And the flaw bubbled up to the surface and fucking failed me real good. And it failed me when I needed it most. But hey that type of shit happens all the time right. It's when you need something the most - and you go to get it... It's fucking gone. Poof. gone. done. toast. whatever... I'm over it.
Now I've read about, or maybe made up (I can't remember) about these Anti-Transition Apparitions from the other side. Metaphysical forces that attempt to prevent you from making big life altering changes. But this would have required a brick-shit-house of a fucking wraith to lay its spooky-ass claws on my key set. Which I might add, consists of 1x Subaru key, 1x Subaru door remote, 1x black Subaru bottle opener all hanging together on 1x bright anodized blue Subaru carabiner. Solid. In other words, as far as any ole wraith should be concerned, those fuckers weren't going anywhere. So I quickly dismissed that notion. I jumped toward a practical solution for a real problem... I visited the craigs list community lost/found bulletin section. In the off-chance that in my journey back from SB, my keys did actually fall out of my pants, or backpack, someone might have picked them up. I couldn't remember if I transported them in my pants pocket or my backpack. Not enough sleep. Or still hungover. Or whathaveyou... But mostly lack of sleep. My single biggest hope was that this city of all cities, would have as good of a chance as any for some happy-go -lucky nice samaritan to post a lost/found bulletin on CL announcing the discovery of my shit... so I looked on craigs list. No keys. Still, fuck.
Okay, I thought, I guess I'll make a post and ask the craigs list community if anyone found my fucking car keys anywhere today. It was at about that time that the phone rang. Turns out my lost car keys were the least of my concerns... for a couple minutes anyway. After describing the situation to my caller, the realization of how messed up this situation really was began to settle in. I have to MOVE TO LONDON in 5 days. I can't deal with this stuff right now! crap, crap, crap.
Anyways, I found my keys a few minutes later. They were in the very thing where I had left them. But I moved that thing. And in doing so, it changed the overall form of that thing to something else altogether. Those elusive rascally keys, were in the cup holder of a folding chair. The chair was folded up. Who would've thought my keys would've been devoured by a folding chair in the first place?
Given the circumstances, it was an incredible sensation of relief that washed over me when I found them.
The problem here is that not much stuff remains in my loft apartment. The structural aspect of my living situation is basically kaput. And I haven't rested much lately. Am I free, free falling? Maybe. But I'm lucky I found my keys. Actually I'm even luckier they were never lost... I kind of had a hunch though.
No comments:
Post a Comment