Pregled posta

Marketing

A couple walked into a cafe. They bore me ill will, but we never had to talk about it. I just kept drinking my tea and bore them ill will right back. Then I got tired of that, and looked around for a higher calling. I needed a higher calling to help balance the way I'd become extra aware of the expressions on my face. I was doing that thing where you're like: this expression is my higher calling expression. See me gaze contemplatively out the window, thinking about my art. See how fast I type, how unruffled I maintain my rhythm. Certainly I haven't noticed you!

I noted the husband's baseball cap, worn at the edges, perfectly molded. He wore it low over his eyes. People in my social circle who were also in his social circle joked about how he always wore this cap. They weren't kidding. It was his signature piece. I could respect that, except for how he didn't respect me and it's hard to return a favor you never got to cash in.

Plot twist: a little later the husband approached my table to say hello to some other people who'd joined me. Shaking their hands, he went so far as to make eye contact with me and say hello. He tried, and I tried, too. Go karma! Points on the board for both teams! His wife hung back, behind me. She didn't try. I didn't try with her, either, didn't crane my little neck. For all I knew, she was reading over my shoulder: yikes.

Lordy! Do I wish that she had stepped two steps closer and said hello, too? In a kinder version of the world, sure. In this one, I'll accept my losses. It didn't feel good, and I assume that was the point.

Frankly, however, I'm tired of things that don't feel good. I'm tired of broken radios and fucked transmissions and gutters hanging by a nail. Ditto cold shoulders, heavy hearts, hurt fingers, money trouble, wars and rumors of wars. I want to be kissed with my back against a brick wall, hearts pounding and hands cupping faces, and daffodils blooming 'neath the trees. I mean that literally and metaphorically. I mean it in all the ways it can be meant, and I want you to be kissed that way, too. Let the blood on our hands drain with the dishwater, fill a clean glass with water to the brim. Even you there in the shadows, even you, Miss Thing.

The San Galgano Abbey was a fascinating place. In addition to the ruins themselves, there is a small chapel nearby that held an interesting surprise. Back in the twelfth century a knight and warlord named Sir Galgano had a visitation from the Archangel Gabriel who told him to make peace with the neighboring warlords. Taking the visitation seriously, Galgano climbed to the top of the nearest hill, took out his sword, and stuck it up to the hilt into a rock outcropping. Needless to say, this got the locals very excited and they immediately began construction of a chapel over the site. Less than a year later Galgano died, so the locals cut off his head and added his skull to the chapel. By this time, the story of the sword had made its way to the Vatican, and since the visitation counted as a miracle, Galgano was fast-tracked to sainthood. This, in turn, led to the construction of the abbey in his name. More than 800 years later, the sword is still there though it is hard to see clearly because they have it covered with a ridiculous plexiglas bubble. In any case, this is probably where the legend of King Arthur and the sword and the stone came from.

Meanwhile, the abbey thrived for a couple of centuries until the Plague wiped out most of the population in the area, including many of the monks. With too few monks to perform the necessary maintenance on the abbey (like cleaning the gutters), the roof finally caved in and the remaining monks gave up and left. The ruins of the abbey have remained pretty much unchanged since that time.