One last sail

After a month of West Marine wage slavery, interviews upon interviews at Whole Foods and living on a mooring at the Wessagussett Y.C. I (James) finally got the call from Whole Foods… “Congratulations Mr. Lane, we’d like to offer you the job of lead-receiver at the Brighton, Whole Foods Market! Now, let’s talk about money and when you can start…” My answer to them about cash was so far out of their range that all I got was abject silence, followed by a clearing of the throat and… “The pay scale in Boston is a little different from that in Manhattan.” So we dickered. They said one number that almost hurt my feelings, I said another that made them gulp then I sat down and wrote a long email to the manager (or rather, Team Lead) of the store and finally we settled on a number that was not quite in the middle. I took the job. While James was negotiating like a fucking pro, I was booking my West Coast tour for Blue Water Dreams.  I’ve contacted dozens of potential venues (literally, and not in that modern sense where literal means figurative) for readings and workshops.  I have a pretty full schedule now, about as full as I’m comfortable making it.  There are only a few days of chill between flying to Seattle and then flying back from San Francisco. I’m confirmed at Good Vibes, for a reading and workshop on consecutive nights (San Francisco), the Gay Romance Northwest Meet-up (which started it all, Seattle), Orca Books (Olympia), Blow Salon (Berkeley), the Gender Alliance of the South Sound (Tacoma), the Ingersoll Center (Seattle, for a visit), and a radio interview for People You Should Know.  I have tentatives at Art of Loving (Vancouver, BC), Gender Justice League (Seattle), a[…]

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“…Life is but a dream.”

I don’t want to go back to work selling over priced marine hardware to power boaters who just don’t know how to do anything on a boat but work the throttle… But that’s what I’m doing, so I get in the little boat, I throw off the lines and I row. I row away from our beautiful old sailboat. She looks a little less proud with her little silver hat (a collapsible sun shade that really was done working last year but, it does shade the sun), her light streaks of orange rolling down her topsides, (proof of a long overdue rebuild of her toe rails) and the big ugly mooring ball that ties her to the earth (a not so subtle reminder that she has to stay put for a while so the humans that live aboard her can pay for their food), but she’s beautiful and strong. As I row in the direction of the dock at the Wessagussett Y.C. I hear a faint sound of children singing an old familiar tune, a song that anyone that speaks the English language has heard at least once in their lives. Row, Row, Row your boat, gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily Life, is but a dream. Two thing suddenly occur to me at the very same instant… 1) Their singing to me! 2) That song is so Zen that it’s almost perfect in it’s elegant philosophy. As the layers were added on buy another chorus, and another, and another the truth of my life became clearer and clearer. I am row, row, rowing my boat through my insignificant little dream, and I am incredibly happy… They were singing to me!  

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