please don’t think me strange

: i like reading in parking lots

Doing it quite a bit lately. It dawned on me today, as I searched for a book to bring in case I felt like it, that it’s probably because it reminds me of an airport. I presume I mean sitting in silence and anonymity. Although I must say:

i bumped into someone i knew

at the Frankfurt (Germany) airport once! He had been on the plane from Boston with me but I didn’t run into him there. Cray-cray. Right? Anywho: being in a car is like being in a cocoon. Is this worthy of a tangent? Yes!

cocoon

co·coon | kə-ˈkün

2a: something suggesting a cocoon, especially in providing protection or in producing isolation

the image is of being happily

isolated and protected. In comfort. But, you might say (me too), that that makes no sense in an airport. Yet there is anonymity (generally) and perhaps that is the key. So, in essence, we are (I am) disengaging and placidly floating from gate to gate, restroom to newsstand, to—you get the idea.

trying not to tangent out

of this because there’s a nucleus somewhere near. I can almost taste it. Or touch it. Am I too engaged (easier to write in 1^st person), even if with myself or in my mind, to be? Hmm, that sentence seems incomplete . . . to be free, natural, real,

me?

I say yes. Why meditating or unplugging or whatever-you-want-to-call-it means so much yet we do it so little. Overall, we refuse to change. I say I like change, but only if I see the benefit, or I am already going for it. When it washes upon the shore of my existence, it’s often a different story. Yet it is so simple. Like loosening a bow.