43 Tasting Notes
Suddenly, and surprisingly, finding myself single, again, I find in myself, first a feeling of relief, but secondly, the returning feeling of being alone. I spend more time at work and the gym to have people around me, and avoid coming back to my apartment because here- I am alone. The cleaning here has found itself incredibly de-prioritized. While sencha in the morning with my waffles or eggs, of course, has not been.
Recently, I discovered my energy costs go up over 600% in the Ohio winter, partly exasperated by an apartment that bleeds heat like a clumsy archer leaks blood. So, I only really have two rooms in the place, and decided to stop heating one of them. I imagine my bill at the end of the month is going to be markedly less than last month, but because I decided to heat the bedroom, I don’t get much done.
Today, I didn’t even put clothes on, which is a special challenge when half of a person’s living space has almost no contrast between the winter just outside the front door. Interestingly, this seems to have had some influence on my metabolism, as I haven’t eaten today because I have no appetite.
I’m working through a pot of sencha hopin’ it’ll remind my blood that it needs sugar or protein or something.
I’ve got a woman who seems solid. It’s still new. A couple times recently she asked me about my past with one girlfriend or another and I spent too much time answering her questions. She questioned if I was still attached to these other people… The people who were, generally, long gone. One is not. She tries to cling on, and I’m well practiced at ignoring her.
Now, I have something good, and something I really want to see go forward, and maybe be made permanent. The echos of my past though, are tainting this new and good thing. I decide it’s time for a purge. I delete a few photos of old girlfriends, and some other general physical house cleaning of such things.
Some time ago, I had torn out a dozen or so pages of my journal, most, or maybe all, had been of my most recent ex, but whenever I had done that, I hadn’t the ability to discard them, so put them in an envelope and saved that decision for another day. The envelope was tucked away in a drawer, and then forgotten. Recently, I re-discovered it and decided it was the best way, symbolically, to start to let my memories of some pains and some failures decay was to dispose of the contents of the envelope. To add to that, I removed a few more pages from my journal as well, about a few false starts with a couple of people… Really only a few pages of a couple hopes.
I had sent my mind on some matcha, as it is my choice of teas before anything that ought have ceremony or ritual to it, but then choose two things:
1) Sencha, as this would be a day like any other, except I’d be throwing away a few pieces of garbage.
2) There would be no ritual to this, because these pieces of paper had no significance. This morning would only include a trip to the Dumpster to throw a few pieces of paper and an envelope into it.
The only problem with decision #2 is I’d already soaked the pages in alcohol.
The flames melted a bowl in the snow, and pieces of blackened paper floated up into the air like the feathers of a crow.
I stood in my doorway and sipped on my tea. With a screwdriver I poked through the pages, spreading them out so they’d all burn. I saw words like, “hope” and “happy” which felt like it should be difficult to see, but I knew I was cremating these inscribed memories for all of the other words.
The sencha turned out perfect. My skin smells of smoke. And today- I’ll forget.
It’s quarter after nine. Forty five minutes ago I should have been in bed, but I re-use the leaves I used for my breakfast in the morning, and eat some food whose cuisine could be described only has hauté-bachelor. Above average, but still garbage. I watch a few scenes of Sin City and try to not identify with Dwight too much. A guy you can count on to save the girl, but not someone you’d lend five bucks.
The winter creeps into the apartment. I’m faced with the decision between the luxury of a higher electric bill or the frugality of a single male with a below average income. If I found myself feeling entitled to a lament, it wouldn’t be spending the night cold, but spending it alone.
The last two months have been some of the least lonely of my life… But the night doesn’t know that.