This morning I spent over two hours searching through my tiny RV for some embroidery needles that I purchased while visiting my family in Colorado. I know they’re in here, but I’ve given up for now. It’s not like I was gonna do some embroidery this morning, but if I wanted to…well, you get my drift. I found every other kinda needle under the sun, and this particular fact represents a characteristic of myself that I find to be a bit discouraging. (and I think discouraging is the functional word here, although infuriating comes to mind, but that would create the image of me cursing and stomping around, a not-in-a-fairy-tale-but-in-real-life kind of Rumplestiltskin. So I’ll stick with discouraging and maybe insinuate that, at times, the veins in my neck bulge and a curse word may or may not be heard in a voice that sounds suspiciously like my own. This way I continue to prove that I really am the person most capable of pitching myself headfirst down this Life’s long, winding path to the grave) And the fact I’m referring to, if I haven’t lost you already, is this: I have a divine imagination that can create possibilities galore but it’s matched with a limited physical machine (the one and only, me). In other words, my dreams create a hype that my ass can’t match.
During my search for needles, the thing I noted that made me raise one of my overgrown eyebrows was that I have been storing a collection of multi-sized needles in the same pouch as a condom. This is one of those things I regularly wouldn’t talk about because, well, because it makes me look like more of an idiot than I perceive myself to be. I could defend myself by saying that the needles were in a hard case that was sealed, except for the one that was floating around loose. Besides, the condom was old and forgotten. This, by the way, wasn’t intended to be a commentary on my love-life. Just because I have a condom doesn’t mean I’d use it, I mean, I would if I needed to use one, but I don’t, and not because I don’t believe in using condoms…ah, nevermind. That poor, forgotten, little condom went in the trash and I was reminded of Uncle Rico in the film Napoleon Dynamite when he said something like, “if coach woulda just given me a chance….” It’s fitting that I’m having these thoughts this morning. I don’t feel that far removed from being a character in that movie that was full of strange scenes and awkward angles. I feel like a strange scene and I see at awkward angles.
The best part of sitting here in my little Dolphin and writing is the cactus wren that keeps popping in and looking around the corner. He just can’t help himself, curiosity rules his world. Speckled chest. A cute, rusty splash against his little bleepers. And that turned down beak that makes him seem just a tiny bit grumpy! I just love songbirds! Here he is, checking in. Gone in a flutter.
I’m gonna be ok, folks. The needles are here, and if I never find ‘em, it’ll still work itself out. Maybe I’ll catch up to some of my dreams and pin ‘em down. Hell, I might really get some solid embroidery done and get famous and rich from all the cool patches I make. I’ve always thought I’d be a great action star in a film or something. People are dying to see some 48 year old dude in a camper sewing little patches with colored threads. Strange scenes, awkward angles…that’s me!