This morning I popped my earbuds in and walked out the door – much like I do every other morning.
I took a few steps down the hall and something about the way the song I was listening to started off – the way the notes hit me – combined with the visual of the empty corridor made me feel like I was in my own movie or music video. I went back to my door and started over – this time hitting the little red record button on my phone.
I don’t know if it’s because I’ve committed to moving out that I’m suddenly feeling nostalgic or just the impending sense of departure, but this morning I decided I’d record snippets of my walk. From what little video editing I’ve done, I remember it’s a pain in the ass. I never have the technology to do it well, but think I’ll try to make a video before I go. It will probably be like lots of other projects – a fun mental exercise but no real results. Here’s the opening scene? (I need to bounce less as I walk)
An interesting thing happened as I approached my walk from the viewpoint of documenting it. 1. I noticed I was uncomfortable taking other peoples photos, and if I did capture them, I tried really hard not to be obvious about it. 2. I started to see everyone differently, more human-ly. They were no longer the people I passed in the streets, but they became the characters in my life. In a weird way, I started to miss them. Suddenly I wanted a close up of the security guard on Madison Ave. I know he smiles under his mask. I see him every day. We nod or wave hello. I wanted footage of the homeless guy I see sleeping on the vents on Union Ave.. His shirt always pulled up and his pants pulled low – his skinny curved back exposed. My walks are a mixture of beauty and grime, peacefulness over top of a layer of deep societal problems. Thinking like a filmmaker, if that’s what I was doing, made me pay attention to things in a different way. Everything deserved a close-up. I’ll try to capture my Memphis views over the next few days. Not sure I’ll go anywhere with it, but I appreciated the different perspective that I got from behind the camera.
I spent a lot of my walk thinking about this short movie. I took a lot of short videos. I thought about how much of a part of my life this small routine has become. I wonder if people who are alone are more prone to establishing routines because it’s a way of being known and seen in the world. Just like saying hi to the security guard on Madison, I see a guy who spends his mornings sitting on a bench on S. Main St. He’s a heavier fellow, a little disheveled. We recognize each other just enough to wave every morning. It’s like having a favorite bartender or a coffee shop that knows what you’ll order when you walk in the door. We find comfort where we can get it.
Yesterday I turned in my notice to vacate to my apartment. I’ll be here through mid-September. If nothing comes up between now and then, I’ll be moving to State College. Making it official, putting it on the calendar, was a little more emotional than I thought it would be. Afterwards, I felt unmotivated. I pushed through the bleh and applied for unemployment in PA. Another series of questions (what day did the incident that caused your termination happen? ummm, there was no incident.) These automated systems are not designed for nuance. If I have to guess, PA will say that I don’t qualify because my last job was in TN. Unlike the TN system, PA did not ask me about prior employment, just my most recent. IF they accept it, I suspect they’ll start payments based on my filing date – even though I’ve been unemployed and waiting for a decision from TN for several months. I’d love to be proven wrong on these things, but I don’t have a lot of faith in systems.
In an attempt to not get in a funk about all of this, I went back down to Foxfire Ranch in Mississippi. A respected blues musician pulled together 8 young blues artists for a retreat that began with the show I saw on Sunday. Last night they had a concert, and they’re having another one tonight. There’s a really well-regarded musician, Kingfish, playing tonight. There weren’t many people at last night’s show. I ran in to a guy who used to play the circuit back home – we talked a bit. He’s in the process of moving from Dallas to Memphis. In the audience was Duwayne Burnside, the son of R.L. Burnside (one of 14 kids). R.L. is one of my favorite blues artists. I saw Duwayne play a few years ago when I was down here – he’s good. Last night he joined in and immediately the other musicians upped their game. It was pretty cool to watch.
The drive home through the dark night of Mississippi hill country was solitary and heavy. Even with the music on, it felt quiet. Big changes like moving have a tendency to bring everything up. For parts of my drive I wanted my ex-fiancee by my side – that person whose presence on a dark country road is a reassuring reminder that wherever you are, you’re home. I could almost picture her there. I may have used those moments to send my vibes out in to the universe. I thought about exploring those feelings when I got home. I decided to read some news and go to bed instead. This is how I expect the next two month to pass. I went through this when I gave notice at United Way. It was a slow goodbye.