loose ends

I'm in the guest bedroom of Jeffrey, Dave and Matthew's Cleveland house, trying on my clothes for tomorrow's interview. Looking down at the nice slacks that drape my legs, and the ends of my tie hanging unevenly down from either side of my neck, it's easy to feel grown up and business-like. A few fumbled attempts at tying, though, undo any imagination of finesse.

There's a Knots & Ropework book on the ground in front of me. Another art I'd like to learn but will never get around to, unless that dream of living out at sea someday comes true.

Jeffrey is downstairs, cleaning the kitchen and building a table. Andre cooked us breakfast this morning in his new one-bedroom attic apartment, down the hill and closer to our alma-mater. His place was humble, clean, and cheap. I could see myself in a joint like that.

Fourth try and I get the lengths right and pull the triangular knot tight to my neck. Swinging the sportscoat behind my back and sliding my arms into the sleeves I feel like the smooth, shavecream-commercial man again.

Bah. I've got to go somewhere.