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Waterfall
Trash Alligator Sunset
He stood, staring at the waterfall. Mesmerized…
She was behind him, shouting. In
the deafening roar he could not hear her.
He stared and he stared and the water poured and poured and behind him
she yelled. JC and EL forever, carved
into the oak railing. No matter—forever
is too big a concept. It gets thrown
out with the trash. Taken down to the
city dump, where an orange-suited convict helps you unload the contents of your
truck into the debris-ridden swamp under the humid August sun. Sweat slithering
down your forehead, down into your mangy mustache. You and the convict swap stories about the legendary alligator of
the swamp/dump. Ten feet long, or is it
twenty feet? That joker is longer
than my truck, the one I drove to High Falls.
The little white Nissan with the ugly green side swipe. What were they thinking when they designed
that decal? Hideous. Surely you remember that trip? You and me and the waterfall and the oak
railing and the setting sun... | | |
| Ginger ale and a bowl of Ramen noodles on the front porch with the Allman Brothers....What could be better?
Maybe an IBC and Shakespeare...I think I'll go try that now.
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| I find myself analyzing everything... I watched A Goofy Movie with some kids on Saturday. What a terrible movie... Every parent figure in the film is hopelessly stupid and/or outdated. Eventually Goofy learns that he must not try to force anything on his son...and his son gets rewarded for lying. Awesome.
Also watched Edward Scissorhands... I can't decide if Tim Burton is a creative genius or a handicapped lunatic. I love how the movie makes no attempt to mirror reality. Everything is exaggerated, ridiculous...especially the story line. But he does it so well.
What hast thou done to me worldview curriculum? What's the big idea, making me a sensible, aware partaker of popular culture?
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| ...and then I realized what I had been doing wrong. I had been making music for myself, about myself, by myself. Music is a social event, right? It must be enjoyed in company, performed for an audience, written for and about others...at least such is my theory. Thus the great pull of concerts, I suppose.
Anyhow, I have another week here at camp. Exciting...Especially now that certain items of food are starting to run out....namely, my bread. It's hard to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich without bread.
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| 120 acres of woodlands...all to myself. What more could I possibly want?
Finally, finally I can listen to as much music as I could ever desire, I can play it all as loud as I want, I can do anything, say anything, try anything...and nobody is around to see me, to hear me, to judge. But what do I find? I no longer desire to do so...Music? eh... Radiohead? eh... okay, well, how about Zeppelin? nah... Damien Rice? I guess that'll do...for a bit. This is one of the few times in my life that I haven't been absolutely thrilled about some new band or genre that I have discovered... It's all, just, music.
I don't think music can exist in a void. It's like I'm stuck in nothingness right now... Wake up, eat a bowl of cereal in the empty house, feed the horses with Tal, then work until lunch. Fix lunch in the still empty house, turn on music (who knows, maybe this time I'll find something...), read some Shakespeare, and then back to work--weed-eating, mowing, cleaning, straightening up. I feel like music is linked so strongly with life, with energy, that when you stop living, it dies as well. I find myself moving slower and slower...staring at things for extended periods of time. It's so quiet...
Saw two baby racoons...they were moving really slowly...I guess daytime isn't their usual roaming time...
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