An infinite series of games:

I got up early this morning, as per usual, and had my coffee etc. I made an early trip to Hannah’s to drop off her bowling bag, keys and smokes, which were still in my possession from last nights escapades post bowling – a Vegas night which the sands of the desert will now erase for the benefit and comfort of all. Hannah lives on the same street that one of my grade schools is located on. I cruised the empty playground on the route into work and began to be contemplative about these ongoing overlaps of self in space and time – here I am again in this part of the fish tank – twenty years later.

I have been struck all day, as I go through the motions of “what comes next” that I am engaged in playing a nearly infinite number of small games made up of conditional tasks.

“Game On”

Open the center: unlock doors, turn on lights, check classrooms, AC units on several floors, resolve computer problems with anti-virus upgrade faulty firewall (Symantic and Mcafee upgrades not playing well together) so that network works, adjust week nine (of 12) announcements as per peccadilloes of employer with more inspiring thought for the week, call Steve about the carpet odor, get Gift Certificates for Steve to Deby, get checks to employees in building – including self, go to the bank to file a fraud claim on a stolen check unresolved since October 2002 and probably the source of Jennifer’s dismissal from related cooperation – her replacement is equally inept, though more through youth than inaction.

Meet with bank manager who says “reimbursement-tated,” in thick Jersey accent, wonder how she got/keeps job – glad we switched banks & should switch myself – she has shakes and possibly a neurological disorder & is ultimately sweet & helpful if difficult to communicate with – wish her well, deposit my own check, return to work, confirm training tonight with Nada, check on brochure with the printer – which has been delayed yet again due to fuck ups with the logo that idiot designed – reduced DPI of and did not keep original design - empty dehumidifier in clinic astounded that more water remains to be drawn out of the air that I am walking through.

Check email – get Buddhist advice that I am source of own misery and thus must be source of cure – odd email directing me to meditate when morning read was the first section of The Secret of Golden Flower – old copy filled with marginalia written by self to self in attempt to decode mystical directives – directing me to meditate – main piece of advice from odd Wayne Dyer speech: meditate – I seem only able to contemplate – a less useful form of “walking meditation”.

Call Angela and social plan next few weeks – David Sedaris tickets for tour supporting new book, Harry Potter Webster Alum event at Chase, Brother Kris’ visit, Sister V band she wants us to see, Vanessa’s birthday trip to wineries, possible rummage sale, various free concerts and “As You Like It” park performance left up in the air as no tickets are required - rough sketch of coming trips to Dallas, St. Paul & Sacramento.

Head to downtown Clayton to pay personal property tax on current car and my school bus floundering in field up in ville (what am I going to do with/about that behemoth?) – arrive in Clayton to parking space with 27 minutes on timer – sun-shower in the shadow of skyscrapers – blue sky & light clouds – past due property tax not payable with debit –still driving on expired plates from April– wander past bus stop of my youth (my high school is a short walk from here) seeking friendly ATM – give up and soak the buck fifty from a Commerce.

Stop in at newsstand looking for French Photo – perhaps no longer in publication as website has been stagnant some time- ponder career as fine art photographer where “a picture is worth a thousand words” – remember interview at eighteen at Columbia in Chicago with twenty something counselor who replaced the sixty something woman who had invited me – campus is a slightly swaying skyscraper with additional up/down motions added when train passes – contemplate and reject idea of trying to focus image in enlarger as building moves beneath me – return to present – return to courthouse & pay property tax.

Surrounded by people with stories, power suits passing me on the street, porn buyers at newsstand – hundreds of cubical bound public servants in tax office – street cleaners in golf carts waiting for a mess to address – feedbag establishments of every variety beginning to draw their lunch crowds – night custodians catching their buses home - return to meter with eleven minutes remaining – home – two large trash bins up the driveway to the curb – dog has peed in upstairs hallway – contemplate baby gate – new cat knocked down boards placed as makeshift gate in am and will suffer no rootless obstruction – steam clean floor with handheld – check mail – intend to call gas company for upgraded meter– write blog contemplating the endlessness and trivialities of these “actions.”

Repeatedly wonder if this consciousness will persist after I am dead, wonder at the pointlessness of all of these shell games carrot and sticking people through their days, wonder indeed at the voyeurism of a hypothetical God.