Sherpas and dreams and a life that was once upon a time…
Watched Into The Mind – by Sherpas Cinema tonight on i-Tunes on my laptop on the kitchen counter behind the ironing board and thought I was back there filling the kitchen with the smell of melting ski wax and p-tex, scattering edge filings on the floor that stick to wool socks on cool fall nights before the snow.
I say I thought but in the moment I felt it. The iron in my hand, the quick skim from tip to tail over the ski, the sometimes bump where the brakes were half-assed tied down with velcro straps, and the liquid dreams of sliding down hills with sticks on our feet filling the spaces that scraped away over the years while the curtain – aka bed-sheet – at the kitchen window sways to the beat, left and right and back again, hiding the city outside. The sound of water trickles through the fish tank filter in the other room down the hall and the refrigerator at my back reminds me I’m here…but Into the Mind, I am forgotten. I am home.
Into the Mind and a winter away it is all one…the sky and the white, this kitchen or that, the strangers on the train and the brothers in the back country that pass without a word, the sunlight and the dream and the yellow fluorescent blinking rolling down the hall looking up at the emergency room ceiling time and again. Crutches and canes, doctors and screws, shiny shoes and ties, they are all the same these days away.
The song says, ‘if you loved me why’d you leave me?’…and if you are a romantic at heart you will believe like I do that she has a voice. There, listen…in the empty September sidewalks between the red bricks and the rain, and soon, up there…you know the place…in the hollows of a snowflake, each one unique and precious and fragile and forgotten, and if you hold her too tight she will disappear into the invisible and maybe, just maybe, you will answer, ‘because you didn’t love me back.’
But that’s not it. That’s not it at all. That doesn’t matter, does it? I still love that place, the empty sidewalks, the old guys in the line up, the sticky window latch on the old gondi, the fog and the rain, the lines and the opening day that ends in a quiet slashing stop at the base without a word like she were an old lover come back for more. It’s like I never left that fifteen year one night stand between the storms…she will forever be the unrequited into the mind.