weisbier bitte

for some reason, joan didion´s book about her husband´s sudden death seemed like the perfect find at the perfect time, the way "catcher in the rye" does when you are 17. i dont know if it was foreshadowing or simply instructional for me--because two weeks later, nancy died, and i re-remembered to stay awake during the seismic changes of place and people of my next few weeks.
in the course of 18 days, i have seen whole lives spin by with a completely unself-conscious smile and wave, young friends at a BBQ smacked upside the head by the big, black "what will i do with my life?" and blue-blazered clients snacking on pestoed goat cheese and widowhood. i saw saint catherine´s head and 600 year old finger and i watched saint benedict on a wall beat his brothers at their own game when they tried to poison him. i heard old faithfuls justify the connection between money and God, i explained to a priest that my father doesnt like catholics, and i talked to lay nuns about the generational gap in the understanding of ´fanaticism.´ well, really, she talked to me, and i poured the wine. and most of it passed the same way everything does, seemingly normal and only subtely unbearable in the chandelier´s spotty light. fanfare only exists when you make it. and there could´ve been enough in these past few days to last until my own finger shrivels, pointing and laughing at myself. but that´s what spoils you in this job, thinking that your life is normal...