Friday, October 14, 2005

October 14th elegy

Ken-chan, today three years gone. I miss you more with every breath.

I awoke this day in Kyoto. I wasn't the least bit sad, the day being far too gorgeous for that. I sat on the banks of the Kamo-gawa, eating breakfast and playing lizard.

Ken died around one in the afternoon. I'd hoped to find a temple where I could light incense, but here in Kyoto of all places, the routes I chose didn't take me by a single one. As one o'clock neared, I chose an inauspicious approach, getting into a couple minor disagreeances with a JR worker and some part-timer at Subway. Typical crap about inflexibility of rules superceding a hyper-flexive reality. And on this day, with weather that was too perfect, and the calender date a reminder that life is too fleeting and unpredictable. Why get bogged down with rules? I took my own advice and blew off the temple idea, then found a quiet planter near Kyoto Station to sit quietly.

A week before, I'd made coffee plans for one o'clock, momentarily overlooking the time and date. I have mixed feelings about this. While Ken is with me constantly, my occasional forgetting is a sign I'm moving on. Yet I'll never get so far that I lose sight of this day, the horrible 14th of October.

On the turntable: UNKLE, "Never, Never, Land"

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