Monday, August 26, 2002 I

Monday, August 26, 2002

I sit here in darkness, the light of the screen almost blinding. Tomorrow is the day. When it all begins. The point from which I will not return. Oddly, I am not nervous or anxious, not really disturbed about anything, not really that excited. I feel instead a great sense of momentum, of satisfying inevitableness. Tomorrow it begins.

I sit here in darkness. The power went out earlier tonight, fizzing out with a couple of sputtering attempts to regain lightness. Even the glare from Trader Joes was subdued. I am reminded of my days in the Dominican Republic, where the limited resources of the country could not be stretched to keep the power on at all times. The power would just sort of fall off, atleast once a day. “!Se fue la luz!” everyone would exclaim, “la luz se fue.” It just went. And when it went here, suddenly, impetuously, I was almost relieved. Comfort. Warmth. Small flickering candles.

It came back on again almost the minute after I returned to the apartment, having dropped mike off in north Portland to fulfill some deep-seated need for wrestle-mania. The scooter makes it quite easy to go to other sides of Portland now. I have nicknamed it the Storm Trooper. It is also sometimes Grunty. I returned home alone to darkness abruptly interrupted. The lights went back on and I was forced to deal with things once again – phone calls, plans for tomorrow, the temptation of nervousness.

But it was easy to fix…I turned the lights back off. A too hot bath bathed in candlelight. The sounds of the street blending into close, wet little sloshings. And breathing, breathing. And now the candles and the darkness accompany me, helping me to relax, focus, and prepare. Is it easier to smile in the darkness? No. Perhaps easier to be.

Tomorrow I get up early, walk to the bus with my friend Erica, and go to meet the beginning.

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