Slipstream

Buddhists call it the monkey mind, that confused, agitated, unsettled state of consciousness that keeps us flitting about from one thought to the next, like a monkey swinging through a forest of banyan trees, grabbing branch after branch after branch.

My monkey’s been working overtime lately. A lot of overtime. Filling my head with thoughts of shrinking incomes and looming bankruptcies and impending foreclosures and medical care reserved for the privileged and few. (more…)

I stand in Guerneville’s only laundromat, in front of one of those front-load washing machines that promises to get my clothes cleaner and whiter than the kind with the lid on top. I toss in my clothes, lock the door, and insert most of my quarters. Fourteen, to be exact—$3.50 to wash one load.

I step over to the cash machine to retrieve more quarters for the second load. I reach into my pocket for my wallet. My pocket is empty. (more…)