Coffee and Pinball

I met two old friends tonight for Coffee and Pinball. Matthew and Andrea from Barnes and Noble Cafe. We talked of old times. When we were young before . . . In the joy of our youth and our blissful ignorance before the piper called . . . We laughed the whole time . . . we are friends. We laughed and laughed and talked about our knowledge. About the creepy things and fairie land. And Andrea spoke about how the moonlight is silver and I said the sunlight is gold, and she admitted that the moon is made of cheese, green cheese, said I.

Old names came up, Michelle, a girl I had a crush on. I had a crush on all the girls in the Barnes and Noble Cafe. Old loves when I was ignorant and thought love was not for keeps. I have never laughed so much as when we talked. It was a joyful night and I hope there are more to come. Andrea said we should meet again. Perhaps she could come to my neighborhood, or I could come to her's. We met half-way. In Ridgewood.

The coffee shop was called Milk and Pull. I came to the address and it was a common windowed door of a residential apartment building in the middle of the block with a sign saying there were no menus outside, but it was not a storefront. Then I walked a few blocks and prayed and I came back and the coffee shop was now on the corner with the same address and was a regular coffee shop with a top notch espresso machine, not an apartment. Andrea is wiser than I am. She knows so much. I am slow, I can barely even count bills as change and I cannot yet shuffle quarters. I am just a boy. We laughed and laughed and laughed.

We played pinball. Star Trek and The Lord of the Rings and poetry and movies. It was cool and breezy as we talked and the heat melted like a glacier in the summer sun. We talked about the people in our old life when we were together. And laughed at our follies. All of our follies. Ignorance and sins. How none of us were taught anything by our parents and we were left to figure it all out on our own.

Does any of this make sense?

On Monday I am applying for a job. Pray that I get it. There was a help wanted sign. I want to be a bus boy at a diner. I would be happy to have it as a job. Any money is good. I went to the Diner today with my father for breakfast and the waiter's name was Jesus Christ. He gave me a penny that was minted on my birthday and I gave him a dollar and my father added on to give a good tip. When I first went to the hospital after my problems started the ambulance technician's name was Adonai. The good God is watching over us.

I have to learn how to work well. I haven't worked since I had my breakdown eleven years ago, but now I think I am ready. I want to work hard and be ordered around and do good work for the love of God. My father said I am a leader. I think I am a watcher. How the man who built the Brooklyn Bridge was in a bed in an apartment with a view of the water and he commanded the crew from his bed. My mother said my instincts are good.

Life is very frightening but hopeful and happy. When I get scared I pray the Ave Maris Stella because I was Baptized in the Church of Our Lady Star of the Sea. Guide me back to port, my sweet Mother.

People are awake and some are still asleep. I am believing in Fatima now though it is a mystery. And that things are not as they seem. You cannot trust anyone, even your own eyes because there are motes and beams and if you do not cry enough tears you might just be blind and have no idea what you are seeing. We think we know things but we know nothing.