thispresentsojourn

I tried Hot Springs again this weekend.    I went with girl-friend, who I’d forgotten to tell you I have.  [As if a girl-friend is a 'thing' to 'possess.'  It is nothing close to that and also none short of an Undeserved Gift] We are together trying to deny our own selfs for the sake of the other’s, and while as depraved that can be a bit challenging it is also extremely rewarding, considering it as our purpose as relational beings.  Part of our effort towards reconciliation involved a trip upward in the U.S. to Kansas City, where girlfriend’s best friend lives for a time.  As it turned out, we never secured a space to stay [we needed separate dorms], so we decided to spend our early Saturday morning driving towards the rising sun [I had to Google before we did to make sure East was the from-where the Dawn proceeds].

We set off for Arkadelphia, and upon arrival [this is true] I nearly cried result of the weighty meaning of the place.  I showed girl all the spots, not limited to the center for students, my old dorms, and the place I learned to play piano and some Koine and also how to brew the proper cup of coffee from a certain Old Testament professor.  All these things were harder to spit out, going on three years removed from a place I selfishly wanted to avoid all until my senior year, when I met brothers whose relationship has set quite standard for any and all-oh who follow.   Walking the campus on Saturday, I was unable to remember anything but the good of the place, which could or could not mean it outweighs the bad.

The rest of the day we spent jaunting on foot through the historic town of Hot Springs.  After the recording of a few time lapse videos during the dismissal of an Oaklawn race we made Polaroids near a giant mosaic of Jesus Christ, King of the World [as well as a mural that read $.10, under which I stood at the artistic direction of girl.  She perceives me as cheap, is it?].   Thankfully, we had no sense of Chronos while in the Hot Springs and were able to peacefully lay in a city-center lawn beneath the afternoon sun for however long, trading my eyeglasses for her sunglasses, the wind on our cheeks.  Eventually we removed the grass from our shoulders and continued our hike through the hillfull downtown, planning to double-back and find dinner in a downtown nook.

After the final Polaroid of a ten-piece roll was composed under a sign reading “LA BOHEMIA,” girl and I searched for the perfect spot [nothing less would satisfy] and finally ended up at a location known as OSAKA, which is a word difficult to say quickly three times in a row.   We sat in socks on a pad of floral pillows on the cedar woodfloor ["look beneath the floorboards"] and sampled from a Rainbow, some Dynamite, a Spider, and the Noir.  When no dinner was left, we stopped for a Black on the patio of a major coffee chain and fled the state of Arkansas, peeling back the Indigo and looking for our Dallas on the other side of Twilight.

Four and a half hours of sleep-driving later. Crooked Tree faithfully [as is she always] held my car captive until my return, and, after transferring all my items from girl’s-good-gas-mileage Sky-on, I cut through the black night to Vickery, which is where I realized I have an easier time falling asleep at the wheel than in my own bed.  Not to mention [though I will mention] my neighborhood often on the weekends sounds like a mix of a 1974 Harlem and a mid-nineties frat party [which is a bad, bad mix], and 4 am was the first my eyes shut.

Even so, mayhaps one of the best weekends I’ve ever known.  If I may use such ultimate language, of course.