And thus another gentle epic begins, late on a Saturday night, surrounded by familiar sounds. The whir of the fan, the distant slams of doors, people entering and exiting the building, an environment of serenity. Of course, it also happens to be the one most condusive to driving one absolutely balmy when one is alone with one’s thoughts, but we’ll lay that concern aside for the moment.<\/p>\n
Today was good in spite of the fact that I didn’t get a haircut. I had a good lunch with great conversation. I really do love conversing with people who are open-minded and don’t act like they have everything figured out (I’m not thinking of anyone at all who breaks this rule; just making a statement). There’s something quite disarming when you meet fellow travelers equally perplexed about the subtlties of existence (or not so subtle, as some would argue). In any event, many subjects were discussed, among them the morals of the Chinese culture, Hugh Jackman, the quirkily contrived version of English the Japanese seem to have latched onto, and the almost universal discrepancy among people nowadays to apologize for something rather than changing it when they know they’re at fault. I had artichoke hearts on my pizza, a first. Traffic was hectic around Chapel Hill and Twinkie definitely needs new brake pads. How can I tell? Simple. When a sound emanates from the front brakes like Egyptians have started building another pyramid nearby, dragging stone across stone, I suspect new brake pads might be in order. The rotors are probably shot by this point, but they aren’t getting fixed. Perhaps I’ll just have them turned… I’ll figure it out.<\/p>\n
It’s almost time for sweaters and blankets and swishing feet through carpets of leaves again. I wonder if I’ll go skiing again this year. I want to achieve new heights of stupidity in barrelling down the slopes with nary a hint of control. Silly, you say? No, you just haven’t lived<\/i>… :o) Speed is an intoxicating thing, as I think everyone realizes when they’re hurtling down the runway in an airplane, and the moment arrives just before the wheels leave the ground and you can sense the cadence of the speed synchronized with the gaps in the concrete runway, a rapid ka-thunk ka-thunk. Whether you’re scared to death or thrilled beyond measure, or somewhere in between, it’s mesmerizing, like a dynamic version of watching a fireplace. And then everything smooths out, and all you hear is the grind of the turbine engines generating untold amounts of thrust under the wings… I live for that moment, leaving the ground, experiencing another element even wrapped in the protective metal shell of the airliner. It’s an element that has another dimension, altitude, intrinsically linked to its nature… It’s that dimension that defines the freedom of the air. Even if I lose almost all sensation of speed, somehow, subconsciously, the knowledge that I’m experiencing something man wasn’t designed to experience compels me… And I will become a pilot. God has furrowed my heart and planted the seeds… Water them, Lord, quickly. I long for it.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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