There was a strange coincidence yesterday, or perhaps I'm looking for synchronicity. I was watching a movie called "The Notebook" about love and loss of memory, paused it to check the mail and found a package by my kitchen door. Packages are usually left by my mailbox near the front door. I go in and out through the kitchen so this package was left in a more convenient spot than usual. It was from a high school friend that I haven't seen since '78 or '79. It had a long red scarf that he knitted "for the cold Wisconsin days," a small leather journal "to record my new life" and a bar of soap from a street fair. A nice care package. I thought it odd because one could reasonably call the journal a notebook, like the movie, and I haven't seen him in 30 years, and again the movie dealt with memory of events far in the past.
In the evening I did dinner/movie with woman from Fitchburg. Strictly platonic, just two lonely people seeking companionship. It was okay. We ate at a nice restaurant in Verona that had a 2-for-1 special on excellent burgers and sat on a deck overlooking a small creek. She suggested seeing "The Hangover" on the advice of her 16-year-old son and it was predictable but funny in the Judd Apatow vein -- male bonding, drinking and drugs, absurd hijinks, strippers. A guy film where they call each other "faggot." I laughed out loud but about half way through wanted to be home in my bathtub.
I could talk to a hundred acquaintances all day long and it would do less to alleviate my aloneness than five minutes with a close friend.
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