escape - Matt Q. McGovern's Blog and other things.

Quiddity Scribblings, Musings, or just what I’m up to lately.

too many disco adventures

While fussing about in my kitchen I heard a sound coming from the backyard garden. Thinking it was the feral cats harassing the octopus again, I went out with my copy of Marcel Proust’s dog’s masterpiece ‘In Search of Lost Kibbles’ and began to read out loud.

Just as I got through the first few sentences and the cats all ran for cover, a hooded figure emptied her bucket of cat food under my garden table, stood up, and started rummaging through her bag.

The outlaw librarian again. The last time I saw her she billed me for books taken out of a fictitious library. Rather than find the fictitious characters that checked out the original fictitious books to see if I could get my money back, I find it’s easier to just update my blog on a more frequent basis.

In a hurry I closed the book and pulled a bag out of my pajamas top pocket and offered it to her.

She looked in the bag I gave her and then at me with an eyebrow raised. “It’s a bag of misty rain. Really?”

Stammering, “Look, I know it’s not fresh but it still tastes good with tomatoes.”

Her eyebrow still raised, “You think everything tastes good with tomatoes.”

I started moving some of the cat food around so there wasn’t a riot when they came back to eat. “I had too many adventures to escape this past year. I didn’t realize there were so many.”

Two of us created a fire in the woodstove, two of us put the food away in the root cellar below.
Two of us brought out blankets to warm and dry ourselves while the fire grew.
Two of us started preparing a meal for four.
We four moved quietly within the small cottage above the cave, tending to our warmth, food, and comfort.

“Those four need to establish communication with the other shelters. A sanctuary that no one knows about isn’t.”

I think I remember Pomeeni saying something after that but when I looked up she was gone and I was in my bed just waking up.

She didn’t bill me this time but every time I look outside now the birds are always gossiping about the weather. I think I’ll take the hint.

“He’s the crimson in your face du jour
The fiddler in your darkest night
He’s the melody without a cure
And Rome is burning, but that’s alright”

-The Disco Strangler, The Eagles (Glenn Lewis Frey / Don Felder / Donald Hugh Henley)

January 3, 2024
let’s talk about the weather

I was just looking at some of my old posts and made a good observation some time before and after the main block of time defined by the pandemic:[*]
https://mattqmcgovern.wordpress.com/2019/11/05/tea-ceremony/
https://mattqmcgovern.wordpress.com/2022/11/23/tea-for-melpomene/

*[Side-stepping the fact that the block of time defined by the pandemic varies widely for most people, not excluding the fact that for many there is no “after” to it.]

What I find most interesting is that both posts were about tea. I don’t remember doing that on purpose when I wrote “Tea for Melpomene”. I just remember being relieved to get ANY post written after three years.

Before the lockdown, I was looking for the space – for the ceremony – for the escape. In 2019, I wrote about “thinking of characters in my head that are saving the world somewhere involving the preparation of food on a windy day”.

In the latter post I wrote in italics my thoughts on how a societal lockdown should have been a personal heaven for me:
“We hammered away at the ice wall until the window above the door was visible.
In time we were able to pry it open, our hands bleeding and frozen.
After squeezing through, we moved the weakest of us into deeper chasms to be given aid and manufacture warmth.
The weakest were the first to fight and some would not stay long inside.
Our preparations were more than adequate though we needed to remind ourselves of this.”

Here in 2023, I find myself continuing a ceremony/ritual that I had started, remarkably enough, in 2019. I decided to take time off the week immediately following the clock change for daylight savings. The first time was in 2020 and I took the whole week off. This ended smack dab right before the lockdown itself. I actually went back to work to an empty building and city center in Philly before going home later to work remotely.

The next time I did it was this year, taking 3 days off to go to New York. It’s like I’m almost celebrating a ritual of changing the clocks (that every single person I know hates) and going somewhere to acknowledge it. It would be cool if I had a clock in Queens or somewhere I had to manually change.

Lately I find myself needing to do more than schedule time to go to New York. I need something every day sometimes. A ritual or ceremony to remind me of it, bring me closer to it, etc.

That quote of mine in November of 2022 touches upon some important topics and looking at the two posts emphasizes their importance. I need to take more time to devote to this awareness, this practice, this space where Melpomene is a local lady from South Philly who visits me when I feed the feral cats in my backyard and wants me to write and be well. #pomeeni #phillyaccent

I had originally wanted to dump an idea for mental health awareness into this space, and how I liken it to awareness of the weather for ancient ship captains. Before apps, radios, and engines, those old sea salts would just look at the sky and feel the wind to determine what the weather would be like the next day. Making the correct determination and charting their course appropriately could be the difference between life and death back then.

I see individuals today as those old sea captains were back then…with a need to look to the weather to determine the right course.

This isn’t just something to do every once in a while but more often.

Melpomene in the Vatican. Hopefully I get to see her in August.

“I wanted to be with you alone
And talk about the weather”
-Head Over Heels, Tears for Fears

April 4, 2023

too many disco adventures

let’s talk about the weather