(no subject)

Last week I thought, with some foolishness, that I oughtn't go to the softball game - but at the last moment young Agatha contacted me to say that she'd be the catcher for this game and that it'd be good if I could come to see. So I walked through the paltry forest that circumscribes the field & went. Night games. She was the catcher indeed, and pretty good. The other team was quite a bit better and the game was called on account of mercy rules, again. Still - the team had a double play and a few hits as well. It was, in short, a game - finally, not a massacre. The other team's catcher was very dominant - very aggressive, I think A sees a role model. Who's sure?

The week, otherwise, was regular and easy. Long walks in the night & a few hot days that swelled up in your thorax, in your chest & left you breathless, a little. I'm a little confused about what is upcoming. My brother contacts me, sparely, and my sister - for Fathers' Day - what will we do? I don't read closely & try to avoid the calls & contacts. I shouldn't but I do. Mother calls to share news of a surprising death, I don't know what to do and can't call the people that I am supposed to call. I'll send flowers.

I think my father will die, before the year is out, before another fathers' day. I don't think he'll know, if I'm there or if I'm not. I don't want to think about it & don't.

On Friday Esther pesters - looking for entertainments, looking for action. I say: "I don't mind that she looks to me for her action, I don't mind, but it's only action & that's not the greatest of feelings always." I don't mind, not really, but today I do, Friday, I did- I wanted just a little peace, I guess. For dinner there's... What did we do for dinner? What did we do?

I have to check my phone, look at my receipts. We went to Barrio - tacos. I like it there and was almost in an altercation on some social site over the quality of tacos. They're good though. I continue to like it there. It's a long, nice walk through the heights as well. A good walk past the houses with their own art installations. Some are worse than others. The sky is so blue, the trees are so green. The sun sets like a descending miracle, the breeze is so slight it could be breath. We stop for treats & make it home. The boy at the store is excited - he's a citizen now, shows his pictures - where the judge swears him in. He's grinning. Now he can go see his mother - with his US passport he can go back, now, at last. We get candy & soda & go home.

I think I'm tired then, I remember being tired and ending the night around 10. 11.

I'm up late too - in the morning, around 9. I must have been exhausted. Never sleep in so late, I can but never do. I have a vague feeling of remorse over this. I should do laundry but don't. I should have bought groceries but haven't. I idle at home doing nothing.

Softball practice is earlier than I thought - she's awakened in a rush and rushed out of the house, returning only a short while after. I decide we'll walk the neighborhood. I'm being asked to Porch-Fest, which I don't want to do but might. Might even like but it's not on my list. Then Bridget calls to invite me to the forest & I agree to that. Agatha is staying in, her friend & her have plans. We walk the neighborhood discussing this & catching pokemon, it's community day - Tyranitars.

There's a garage sale advertised - not as huge as it's described. A wants to see, so we go to see - I overhear these old ladies talking of their meditative practices & their mindfulness training. The feeling of being alienated from my middle-class roots is overwhelming. There are gulfs of indifference in which I lie, inisled with the lapping waves of incredulity wearing away, wearing away. Can this be what it is? Who people are?

I imagine a self, consumed by the ocean of alienation, I imagine a self that ceases to be and exists only just, and then as a kind of ineffectual contempt & dignity.

We go home.

Agatha's friend bows out - but she has no interest in the forest. Bridget & Tara come to get me and we're late. It's a long way but I know the best route- it's my boyhood forest, deep in the valley. Meredith has been there waiting with her dogs. She's cross-fit and so doesn't mind walking the walk over and over. We make the journey & they laugh a little that I wear flip-flops. Egyptian, I think to myself, Shib-Shib is Egyptian, this is my culture. Hilariously. It's good to be in the forest, alternately high & low, near caves & on open fields. It's a good forest.



Bridget is leaving for Colorado to stay. I didn't know & wouldn't have. She says she called me because she realized that without social media I'd be left in the dark. I would have too. She and Tara don't listen to music in the car and I comment on this - because they'd both, at one time or another, been off-put by my own disuse of music. "Can't work with it on." And they can't. There's a small amount of skid & heavy brakes as I call out from the back seat - "Ice Cream." The orchard has ice-cream, flavored with honey - it's a good spot to stop. Childhood memories. It's in what would have been the shadow of the Richfield Colosseum. I keep down my memories of my father and hate, right now, to think of it.

Bridget is writing for a living & so lives where she wants. She'll go back to her roommate & I'm invited. Maybe in August - probably in August - I've never been to Colorado. There are errands and then we end up in the fancy west-side donut bar. They have rose slushes and I have a bad cider. When they get to ordering food I beg off - I should go home. There's a kid there, and she won't eat if I don't come to make that happen. So I should go home. I order delivery in advance of my arrival. Walk a long way up the dark hill past sunset. She's been home & idle. Teenaged. I do my very best to be accepting of this. Of her idleness. I assume that a teenaged kid needs to be home alone from time to time. Give her that day & don't ask too many questions.

On sunday I sleep late again - having walked up many hills from morning till night. I sleep late but not so late as teenaged-A who sleeps till 1. Somewhere in that time I'm taunted by my brother- "Where are you?" He texts. "What's going on? When should I come over?" Meaning to mom & dad's house. "An hour ago." He tells me. And I resolve to end all contacts with anyone for the day. I'm a father & I'll be celebrated on my own merits. That's enough.

In the afternoon when the kid wakes up I make her go with me for donuts & then snacks. She sits in her room for the day -talking up friends & drawing. I think she's got a new love interest & that's occupying all her interest.

I send her to her mother but her mother messages to say she's not home - so I go & intercept & then we walk home & it's late before her mother comes by to get her. I'm nearly asleep. It's too hot for anything. We're watching a movie that might be good & might be bad but that reminds me too much of the Fabulous Unknown City.

Tonight is softball again, and again I'm not sure I'll make it. And I'm not sure when I'll go to see my father and when it is that he'll be gone.

I'm disengaging & I feel. More & more that I'm allowed this & should be given this. And that for a long time I've done enough and now I can retreat from that. I feel, thinking this, that I'm becoming the ugly shore that encircles that gulf, the weird, alien sentiments of middle-class entitlement & groundless self-assurance.