Quick Peck

An intelligence officer who let his cock rule any part of his life was obviously not a good agent.   It was as though the man thought himself above all normal rules.
-Stieg Larsson
"The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest"

Twenty-five years ago today:

August 23, 1985
Friday

I received my airline tickets for France today. Hurrah! I am on my way. Now the only shaky question is why Paloma’s phone is disconnected and what that may (or may not) mean for my arrival to Western Europe.

Our salad luncheon raked up $110 dollars at the Business Office today. The leftover ice-cream raked up another $40 dollars, so we made a reasonable $150 dollars overall. That’s good!

I returned home from my workday and only did the beginner’s workout on video. I petered-out given that it was a Friday and readied myself to go to Baxter’s in Concord.

When I arrived at Baxter’s I saw Denise Vinsonhaler, the Benicia policewoman, there. We danced. We actually had a pretty good time. I ended up meeting her twenty-five year old brother who looked a lot like a guy who could be employed by the Mafia.

I walked Denise to her car at the end of the evening, giving her a quick, simple kiss on the lips. It’s what I call a “quick peck”.

When I first entered Baxter’s I had seen that blond that worked there that looked a lot like Karen Melton from behind. It wasn’t her, of course. I miss Karen.

"You remember the Rupert Brooke poem, "The Voice"?"
-Nial Kent
"The Divided Path

THE VOICE
by Rupert Brooke

Safe in the magic of my woods
I lay, and watched the dying light.
Faint in the pale high solitudes,
And washed with rain and veiled by night,

Silver and blue and green were showing.
And the dark woods grew darker still;
And birds were hushed; and peace was growing;
And quietness crept up the hill;

And no wind was blowing

And I knew
That this was the hour of knowing,
And the night and the woods and you
Were one together, and I should find
Soon in the silence the hidden key
Of all that had hurt and puzzled me --
Why you were you, and the night was kind,
And the woods were part of the heart of me.

And there I waited breathlessly,
Alone; and slowly the holy three,
The three that I loved, together grew
One, in the hour of knowing,
Night, and the woods, and you ----

And suddenly
There was an uproar in my woods,

The noise of a fool in mock distress,
Crashing and laughing and blindly going,
Of ignorant feet and a swishing dress,
And a Voice profaning the solitudes.

The spell was broken, the key denied me
And at length your flat clear voice beside me
Mouthed cheerful clear flat platitudes.

You came and quacked beside me in the wood.
You said, "The view from here is very good!"
You said, "It's nice to be alone a bit!"
And, "How the days are drawing out!" you said.
You said, "The sunset's pretty, isn't it?"

By God! I wish -- I wish that you were dead!