Part 1: The Blue Moon Cafe And Diner

I sit in the Blue Moon Cafe and Diner, scratching at the little bits of crap stuck to the tablecloth. I do this impulsively, I scrape at anything that protrudes from an otherwise flat surface. My wounds rarely heal well, as I cannot keep a scab. I've had the same scrape on my forearm for the past six weeks, and I doubt it will be going away anytime soon. This might be significant, or it might be one of the many various things I sit and think about to convince myself that I am profound. Either way, I get a lot of shit under my fingernails.

 So I sit, and I stare blankly out the window, sipping my Cherry Cola, and occasionally lighting a cigarette. I have several hours to kill before my bus arrives to take me away, and I don't know anyone here. So I sit, and I wait. I count cars. I count the minutes. I correlate the data to arrive at an average of fourteen cars per five minutes over a thirty minute period. I wish I'd brought a book.

 Occasionally the waitress passes by and asks me how I'm doing, if I need anything, if I need to use a phone. One always seems to get extra sympathy from the workers of an estblishment if one appears basically stranded there for a while. Eventually they get to know you , and they seem to become freindly with you. Even though you will be leaving in a matter of hours, you have suddenly become a regular. I suppose this stems from some kind of commiseration, as you have begun to understand the kind of misery involved in spending large ammounts of time here. The more someone thinks you understand there suffering, the more they seem to like you.

I am reminded of when I was sixteen and my father died in a freak car accident. I got the news during art class, and I burst into tears. I left school, and spent several days out on account of the wake, the funeral, and so on. Shortly after coming back to school, I found out that a boy I had hardly ever talked to named Derick Feldman had also lost his father the previous year. We became freinds, and spent a good deal of time together. We rarely, if ever, argued about anything, as we didnt feel strongly enough about any related topics to have any kind of fuel for debate, and at the time, this seemed like a good companionship. I haven't seen or spoken to him since High School. I suppose the relationship had served it's purpose. We had helped eachother cope with the loss of a father, and there was no more need for further contact.

 A lot of relationships, even freindships, are like this. A bond is formed in a time of mutual need, and is abandoned when the need is fulfilled. However, the final seperation is not always a mutual one, as sometimes we forget that, while our own requirement of the relationship is satisfied, our companion may remain unfulfilled, and furthermore, some people just have a problem letting go. Some people are very hard to satisfy. Not all relationships are of this nature, mind you, but a good many are, and this fact can sometimes lead to pain and disillusionment.

 It's not always fair, but that's how it works. One example, you get into some kind of mishap and injure a leg. So for several months, you work with a physical therapist. Over the course of your relationship, you get to know one another, and you get a pretty good grasp of all the surface details; likes, dislikes, names of siblings and parents, etc. But the primary focus of your relationship is making your legs work again. Once this issue has been taken care of, you part ways. You don't set up coffee dates. You don't go to concerts together. The leg is healed, the relationship is completed, and no one is terribly hurt by this process.

However, there is another example. You find out your girlfriend or wife or whatever is cheating on you, or doing something else that hurts you on a really base level and generally injures your sense of humanity and trust. At the encouragement of your freinds, you attempt to "Get Back On the Horse". You go out looking for love, and find yourself an absolutely wonderful woman who is warm, compassionate, honest and trusting, and who seems to care for you deeply. For a few months, you bask in her warm embrace, and she soaks up your pain and wrings it down the drain like a motherly washcloth. Your pain is over, and you have coped. And thus, as far as your heart is concerned, the relationship is over. It has served it's purpose. This is where it gets really tricky, because in the world of romance, no one really likes to be used to clean up a mess and dropped like a disposable, moist towlette. And thus, the little lady who set out to find Mr. Right is now looking for someone to help her cope. See how that works?

 Sorry, I tend to wander off on tangents sometimes. Well, most of the time. So here I am, watching time pass in a little diner in another of many anonymous cities. I chat with the waitresses about common things like politics and literature. We both make sure to express opinions just strong enough to show that we actually have them, but just weak enough as to not lead to a protracted discussion, as we are both well aware of the temporal nature of our relationship here. And where temporary freinds that you really have nothing in common with are concerned, a cluster of light conversations is often better than one, giant, heavy debate. To be honest, neither of us really want to risk being partially affected by the other. Strong exposure to the opinions of others can be a dangerous thing if not moderated.

 As I see the long Greyhound pull up in the street, I worry for a moment. Has this place become important to me? Will I leave a piece of myself here, and in exchange, take a piece of this place with me? Or will it slip into the oblivion the moment I step onto the bus? In a month, will I remember Estelle, the skinny middle aged woman who shared with me her views on racial profiling, pop music, and the situation in the middle east? Will I remember the way the rain outside looked like a waterfall coming off of the gutterless roof? Will I take all this with me? Yes. Yes, I think I will. And just to be sure, I pocket the ashtray and slip it into my lugged as a memento.

 Goodbye Estelle. Goodbye shitty tablecloth. Goodbye amber hued transparent glass of Cherry Cola. Goodbye Blue Moon Diner and Cafe. I will remember you always. But for now, I am done waiting for my bus, and therefore, out relationship is finished.