A couple things I wrote this week for fun -- unfinished, of course

On Being in the Dark

For quite a while now, maybe as long as I might be classified an adult, I have taken my morning shower in the dark. There is nothing to it, really—no challenge about it other than being able to get a hold of the soap and shampoo, and even if I drop the soap, by following the sound of it hitting the tub with that hollow thunk and subtle slide, I can generally find it right away and resume this monotonous act of daily hygiene with nary a wasted second. Which isn’t to say that I care if I waste a second in the morning, showering in the dark. In a way, I have come to look at this initial ten minutes of my day as something like meditation, though I’m not generally seeking anything other than a few more minutes of inactivity. Usually I turn on the cold water and let it run for a minute while I sit down on the bath mat and just listen, thinking superficially about the drudgery of the upcoming day. Sometimes, when I feel particularly contrite, I chant a few rounds of the Hesychast “Jesus Prayer”. Inhale: “Jesus Christ, Son of God” Exhale: “Have mercy on me a sinner.” Rather than finding what the Hesychasts sought—that elusive holy light—I generally get distracted after about three breaths and give up on the meditation part of the routine. At this point I add the hot water to the equation and step over the edge of the tub.. For the last few months, my 22 year old sister in law has been living with us…sharing our four bedroom, one and a half bathroom rental. Hanging from the shower head is her back washer and luffa. I know this, not so much by sight, but by touch—because there is an ongoing battle in our shower over the proper trajectory of the shower stream. So every morning I follow, first the bristles of the brush along to the viscous surface of the wood handle, up to the meshy luffa, hanging on the shower head on what feels like a 9mm climbing rope and proceed to the shower head which I give an ultimate, hearty lift to the proper trajectory. Now, let the showering begin. First, rinse, of course. (Aren’t we a cute little culture—obsessed as we are with bacteria and cleansing—so much so that we consider daily showers necessary?) Then I reach for the soap and wash—trying feebly to work up the professional amount of lather I always seem to aspire toward, learned from those Zest commercials—starting with my arms, chest and working my way down. Somewhere in there I make a weak attempt at washing my back; it makes me queasy to even think of using a tool (specifically my sister-in-law’s), hanging in the shower perpetually just to try to scrub the small of my back, maybe it’s just me, I don’t know. After finishing all the business of showering, I stand for a while letting the water run over me. All of this takes just under ten minutes.


Mountain Gigolo Blues
by John Baker

This morning, third of March
Awoke to a foot of snow
Nothing much to speak of
Far as we locals know
But for Government Becky Parker
Spring seemed settin’ in for good
Til’ this overnight dose of winter
Sent her running from our woods

I know she’s gone for good
Heard it from a friend
Works graveyard at the all-night Shell
Down on the riverbend
He said she rolled in at six
Got a cup of his blackest brew,
Paid for her fuel, said: “this time tomorrow,
I’ll be knockin’ sand out of my shoes.

I’ll have to admit it
I’m sad she had to go
She was one of the good ones
I‘d yet to get to know
In her, she had what a man can’t keep
But only wants to hold
Could tell by the way she caught your eye
And the way she wore her clothes.

The only time I saw her
She was dressed in her uniform
US forest service patch
Sewed on the shoulder of her arm
I’d been up cutting wood
For most of the day
Had a customer up on Long Alec Creek
Wanted to trade a cord for a ton of hay

Becky was taking samples
From the creek runnin’ by the road
I saw her from a distance
Got closer and I slowed--
Slowed down enough to see her shape
Was pleasing to my eye
So I stopped and smiled and said hello
She stood up, said simply, “Hi.”

There was something in that moment
That makes’ me somber here tonight
Wish I’d done whatever I could
To keep her in my sight
There’s a million things I could have said--
Could have asked if she was lookin’ for gold,
But she’s flew off, the snow’s now gone
All’s left is puddles on the roads