Something happens after dinner. All

September 10, 2002

Something happens after dinner. All the pearls of wisdom and anecdotal information that starts the pistons of this process firing are erased. I guess I give them all back to the day. These fish are obviously not big enough to keep. I am obligated to set them free. My antennae must be adjusted if this is not the case. I learned of these phantom antennae from an Angelino friend who once stood beside me in the wings of a late night festival concert. A famous and hard driving band had created a churning mosh pit down in front. Behind the medieval action were about 30,000 more crazed revelers. We were up above the lip of the crater as the steam rose up in rolling knots from below. The cool night had come and brought out the columnar tracer beams of the stage lights and started to condense the sweat of the banging hoard. The place was heaving and rolling like a mofo and he turned to me and said he felt like no one had given him his antennae. He wanted so badly to tune into what the band was doing but didn’t “get it”. He pointed to the crowd and said that he felt they were all wearing their special antennae and he didn’t get any. I was enjoying the show but knew how he felt. A lot of my life is spent trying to tune the damn things in. I feel like that at a pro football game. I feel like that about a lot of days. When someone says I look tired or unhappy it is probably because I have spent the day looking for my bloody antennae and come up short. There is no explaining how low I will sag if I waste a day without the damn things. “I ran my ass off today but don’t have much to show for it” is a sure sign that reception was poor. Sometimes you can bail out and go for an ameoboid existence that doesn’t require electrical action on a higher plane. Denial is a starting point. It gives you time for your molecules to lay fallow. Just sit and allow your cells to divide. Sleep. Tomorrow brings the possibility of evolution. Perhaps you will make a sandwich instead of pouring cereal. Magazine instead of TV? Shield your eyes I’m opening the drapes. Outside there are better things to breathe. So many times my antennae have reattached while in the out of doors I am certain that stale air dulls reception. I must shut down, open the windows and . . . and wait.