February 7th, 2001.  Wednesday

 
    As I was leaving the house this morning, there was a funeral service for a police officer at the church across the street. I was just telling someone the other day how there've been a lot of hearses parked in front of that church in the past few months.  Anyway, I felt compelled to stare as I walked by. I would've like to have watched, but it wouldn't have felt right. I thought the whole thing would've made a really good picture too, but I didn't think that'd be right either.  So I kept walking.
    I'm wondering right now why I'm writing about it.  I hope it's not something despicable like I'm using this incident and funeral to convey how deep and solemn I can be.  I can't help but think that. I mean, why would I be writing this for people to see if I didn't want to impress somebody?  That's pretty awful, to use this person's death to prop myself up, if that's the case.  Maybe I'm in denial, but now that I've thought about it some more, I don't think it is.  Had me sincerely scared for a minute though.  I think more likely is that there was a real beauty to it. I wrote a note to myself on the top of my hand as I passed, so I'd remember to write about it later.  Because it was really striking.  It was sort of a warm morning, and there was a little bit of a crowd, and all these cops were in their dress uniforms standing in a line, with others directing traffic.  The pallbearers were folding up an American flag at the moment I walked by.  There was a quiet, solemn beauty about it.  It was also really sad. there were a lot of little kids standing around.  I've been wondering what happened to the cop.  Anyway, that was the first thing I saw as I left the house.  And it really would have made a great picture.  I always carry my camera around, just in case.  But I would've felt like some goddam vulture.

    In less important matters, the internet connection at work was down all day, rendering the office nearly helpless.  So i didn't really have anything to do.  I had lunch with James, since we work on the same side of town, about 14 blocks apart.  We've done this quite often lately. We just usually pick a time to start walking toward each other, and eat someplace near where we meet.  I've been seeing James a lot more lately.  Which has been nice. He's a nice guy to have lunch with.  Just eat, hang out for an hour, and back to work.  Do a little catching up, and just chat.  Twas a nice afternoon too.  Sunny and sort of balmy. I gotta stop spending money like I do, though.  I really didn't need this giant lemon bar I bought after lunch. Though it did lead to an exchange with the woman behind the counter that James thought was just hilarious.

    So of course, work will be extra hectic tomorrow.  Lots of fact-checking to do.  There's still not paying me.  Hopefully after this issue is done, we'll see a check.  But for now, I'm not even really scheduled to go in on Mondays and Fridays, though I have been the last few weeks.  I'd really like to not go to work on Friday. I've been planning on just sitting in a coffee shop all afternoon and reading my book and maybe eat some cheescake.  I bought a collection of Kurt Vonnegut's short stories the other day.  I bought it after reading a bit of his introduction, about the lack of short fiction in magazines these days.  I actually tried getting in tough with hime today to see if he'd consider writing a short story for the magazine i work for.  We've run short fiction before. And he used to write for Cosmo, for pete's sake.  He's sort of kooky, so i guess it couldn't hurt to ask.  That'd be pretty freakin cool.  Not holding my breath though.  Anyhow, I also bought the book because somewhere not too deep down is the desire to be able to write interesting fiction.  So I've been reading short fiction by the two authors I enjoy the most, Fitzgerald and Vonnegut.  My ideal style would be a synthesis of the two, with a dash of David Sedaris.  Now that would be an interesting mix.

    My new mix cd is still bringing me great joy.  I've never really been a fan of The Grateful Dead, but the song "Uncle John's Band" really makes me want to be back in Viriginia, sitting in an open field on a warm spring afternoon. It's really very calming.  The Hollies' "Carrie Anne" always makes me bob my head weird, and also reminds me a lot of driving through back Virginia roads on late August afternoons.  It's a good thought.

Well, it's rather late. Gots ta go ta bed.  Feeling ok.
 

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