Something curious. And a poem or two.

This is weird. In this process of moving, I have found several surprising items, most of them coming from grocery bags full of stuff XGF pulled from the depths of a large and dark cabinet. Included were several journals -- travel journals and personal ones -- in which I've recorded many mundane and peculiar thoughts over the years. I'd forgotten some of them even existed.

For example, one little notebook I hadn't seen in some time is a compilation of thoughts I had while riding the No. 9 bus to and from work in 2001. There are many notes from Sept. 11 and the months following. And there are some curious poems.

So something curious: This term, I wrote a paper for Family Therapy class on the movie "Mindwalk," which addresses the interconnection of all living things on a sub-atomic level. For reasons that escape me, I wrote two poems in 2001 about the same topic (interconnectedness, not the movie).

My poems usually don't rhyme, so I found this one all the more curious:

T-shirts. Skateboards.
Liquor-filled libations. Cups of tea.
Asphalt. Train stations.
Brick and morter. Me.

I am different from a
fence post, a street sign
a rabbit or a house
My consciousness
is sublime, more aware
than a rat or mouse.

But am I different
from the elephants
when boiled down
to my bare elements?

Hardly.

Well ... I wrote it on the bus. Along with a lot of other really weird shit.

I had a regular habit of writing about the river when I crossed it. One day, I observed, "It is so still, I wonder if someone added gelatin overnight."

I also liked to write down weird things I overheard. (Today, my habit has changed: Now I use my cell phone to take photos of weird things I see when I'm out an about.)

In any case, I wrote down this comment made by a teenage boy:
"She was going to kiss me on the cheek, but I was prepared, so ... that was a couple weeks ago." ... I'm *still* wondering exactly what he did.

Oh, the detritus of my writing life! What will turn up next?