Melancholy and Modernism

I stayed in all day yesterday sifting through files on my hard drives.  So many.  I meant to do many things, but I stayed in the entire day.  Then a text.  I had forgotten that I was to attend a fundraiser that night.  The factory always buys a table there, and I have been chosen as one to populate it.  It is the worst fundraiser in the world.  It is held at a Harley Davidson dealership that sits next to the interstate.  And so I took a shower and put on my party clothes and headed out into the sunset.

I stayed as long as I could stand it, ate, drank, kibitzed, and came home.

I want to go somewhere in spite of everything.  Each year, my big trips have been cancelled because of catastrophes.  I am undone by it.  C-U-B-A.  I was there a very, very long time ago.  It is not far from me.  I could go for a week or less.  What could go wrong?

The day is gray and humid and warm.  My shoulder aches and throbs.  I am done with the gym for awhile. Perhaps, though, I can do some gentle yoga.  I feel the need for quiet, gentle things and solitude, melancholy and modernism.  The holidays are about to begin.  It is time for a quiet retreat.