Monday, August 12, 2013

One Must Imagine Sisyphus Happy, or Why Magical Thinking is Not So Bad

“A pervasive theme in the works of existentialist philosophy, however, is to
persist through encounters with the absurd…”  -Someone on Wikipedia

To someone like me with an overly practical degree but not enough arts and letters, ever, this is all fascinating, new. In the early mornings I let my mind wander, go with the leaps, go with only the resources in front of me at my desk...

“One Must Imagine Sisyphus Happy” --Albert Camus, and
Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children is also deeply on my mind...

One Must Imagine These Circumstances Are Happy
One must pretend...

the grey concrete and steel structure, the new hospital, being erected in front of the window where you sit and get chemo every 2 weeks does not block
the bridge view, the bay view...

One must pretend...
that is has solar panels and a westward facing 7th story private outdoor/indoor patio only for nurses and the doctors that catch their eye, so that the nurses can invite a higher-paid-better-circumstances-at-birth-man or woman up, for a noon-time or 6am meal (nurses work round the clock so this café never closes—the late nights are staffed by teenagers who think their best at 2am, and the early early mornings by volunteers, very elderly and spry retired senior citizens who need in their souls to have a job to get up for, to comb their wetted silver locks across their crowns for, but to be done with by 10am so they can go home and have lunch at 11, nap, and do what-all they want to in the mid- to late afternoons, as this will always be a luxury for them but they must have a job a function in the early mornings, something from which to rest). 

Yes, the nurses will do the inviting up and the café is powered by pediatric Occupational Therapy clients, the ADD ones whose mothers and fathers unwittingly and quite innocently live in a time with quite an alarming spike in ADD but the children’s fidgeting is not all for naught, for the OTs and three Peruvian electrical engineers have found an intersecting interest and the children’s bouncing balls and trampolines and swings and even stationary bicycles (ridden mostly by large and gentle boys with severe intellectual disabilities and powerful bodies who like and need nothing so much as to spin at high revolutions around and around, going somewhere fast), because you see--yes, why not--these toys are all hooked up through the Peruvians’ genius and the OTs’ practical natures 

to the power grid that serves the café that serves lattes and regular percolator coffee for the throwback nurses, eggs at any time and good, good cheese that feel good to pronounce like Manchego and Ricotta Salata and also spunky salads with whatever they want and also the café has 10, maybe 30 of those open egg shell shaped sleeping pods that were meant for software engineers on the Peninsula but here they are, for nurse naps are encouraged because everyone should know if they don’t already that nurses are really in charge of saving the lives and so it is only fair that the nurses are enjoying a bridge view, a bay view.

1 comment:

  1. Your poems are, if I may steal a line, "good, good cheese that feel good to pronounce like Manchego and Ricotta Salata" You are a gentle wise soul who must have lived once or more before this.