I’m Still Learning About My Internal Queue


Coffee Queue








I’m realizing that as I write and blog my tiny stories through this process called Life, I have a queue of lifelong infatuations in my head and heart.

I’m crushing on: lichens, moss, barnacles, Spanish moss, flamingos, wisteria, colorfully painted small towns with diagonal parking, ghost towns, ruins, desolation, diners, cafes, coffeehouses, little white churches, Route 66, antique buttons/beads/lace, and yoga.



Such disparate passions. How do they all connect?

I thought I might learn by blundering my way through a blog. But, after nearly a year, I still have no idea.

And, yet, I do maintain this one stubborn fantasy: Stitching this seemingly unrelated queue together in the form of vignettes and poems, under the rubric of Diagonal Parking.

So, perhaps another year of clumsy musings and awkward rambling will bring a clearer vision of how I want to write down the bones and form the skeleton of my creative fancy.

Meanwhile, close on its heels is another reverie.

I’d ideally like to take a road trip of indefinite length, and spend time in the indulgence of small towns, explore ghost towns and ruins, ride the asphalt of the Mother Road over and over, dine in cafes, park diagonally, hike and meditate among the lichen/moss-splattered rocks, drive the “loneliest road in Nevada” and let desolation sink deeper into my soul, maybe even squawk with a flock of flamingos and dance the Fandango draped in Spanish moss beneath meandering vines of purple wisteria. And whenever I reach water with a pier, sit with the barnacles and study their formations.

At the moment, I have not a clue how to realize this two-part dream. But, I’m going to set up a matrix and release it. And see what unfolds.

And, if nothing does .  .  . well .  .  . I can always get behind the counter, gaze at the black-and-white checkered flooring, and serve the world its mocha java with a steaming smile.

Or, perhaps, do what I do best: sashay down the sidewalk of Main Street, braid myself into a yoga pose, and observe the world passing by .  . . meditating on all the contradictions and eccentricities it and I contain, while invisibly grinning at my self as I persistently search for the Truth, which I keep swearing to God exists and is accessible.

If only inside a rainbow queue of coffee cups.

22 responses »

  1. Have you read “Blue Highways” by William Least Heat-Moon. It’s about traveling the USA on the so-called “blue highways” — non-freeways.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Yes, I have read “Blue Highways.” Many years ago, actually . . . back in my twenties, I think. I LOVED that book! It resonated immediately in my soul and I carried it with me on the road for a few decades. It was a sad one to part with, but, after about 40 moves, I’ve learned to give away each book as I complete it. The memories are so much lighter to carry. Thanks for reminding me of that classic “back-roadtrip” genre. Now I’m really feeling nostalgic.

      Liked by 1 person

      • One of the things I remember about the book, which I was actually reading as my brother and I tooled across the US in my sporty red Fiero, en route from Ohio to Arizona, was the nebulous concept of the “midwest” — Where does it really start? Where does it end? Apparently Ohio and Indiana are midwest, but so is Oklahoma? But what about the Dakotae? And why is there a medical school in Phoenix called Midwestern University?

        Liked by 1 person

        • Interesting question. I’ve never really pondered the boundaries of the “midwest.” I think it might be appropriate to ask a native Midwesterner, though. (I’ll pass this on to the perfect friend.) As for Midwestern University in Phoenix . . . I’m stumped.The whole process of naming can be so baffling. Some are clever and straightforward in witty clarity; others leave me shaking my head in search of a connection!!

          Liked by 1 person

          • I think the concept of “midwest” is one of the issues the author deals with … since I keep all my books I may just go back and browse it.


            • Oh, how wonderful of you! I wish I could carry a portable library with me through life. Sadly, I just donated four or five boxes worth of books to the thrift store on Wednesday. (Yes, another pre-move purging!!)
              If you find out more about “midwest” per William Least Heat-Moon, please let know.

              Liked by 1 person

          • i found my copy of “Blue Highways” — which was a bit of a feat considering that I couldn’t remember if I had shelved it under L H or M (Least Heat Moon). And further, was it with fiction paperbacks or some quirky non-fiction category?

            But here’s the wonderful thing…I think you and any other followers of your blog will like this…

            When I found the book after just a minute of looking, I found that it was a beat up old paperback and I got to wondering how I happened to come into possession. I frequented library used book sales a lot back in the pre-Amazon day so I figured that’s where I picked it up.

            But as I opened it to the dedication page, I found a hand scripted note from a dear friend, grad school mate and poet/scholar who died a few years ago. I wish I could reproduce it here, but it says:

            Happy Trails.
            Keep in touch.
            Oct. 6, 1985

            This was apparently given to me the very week of my relocation trip to Phoenix. I could see that Jack had undoubtedly picked it up 2nd-hand himself, possibly 3rd-hand. The book has battered page corners and is filled with underlines and notations that are clearly not my style (I’m a highlighter) — none of which I would like if it was a used Amazon book.

            But the chain of hand-downs, most especially the long-forgotten inscription from Jack, makes this a one-of-a-kind heirloom.

            Liked by 1 person

            • Oh, what a touching tale of a friend and a book and a roadtrip and all the intersections that were triggered by simultaneous actions. You truly do have an heirloom in your book collection. Perhaps one you would not have discovered/recognized had this little blog discussion not begun. I love the fact that Jack likely gave the book to you as you were traveling to Phoenix. That synchronicity gives me chills.
              Thanks so much for scouring your book collection and sharing this story.
              I see that you posted it on your blog, as well. May Jack and William L H-M rest in peace, as we all enjoy their creativity!

              Liked by 2 people

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