vagabond and on (with rare photos from shanty town)

The music I remember hearing said “God bless us as we cross from green sides into darker… God love us as we lay in puddles of our own… Our qualities will raise us in a light that blinds our mothers… Our fists will serve to clear out debris of those days…”

So I broke down shanty town, when I was planning to spend the entire summer sleeping outside. Actually I broke down everything. Packed it. Dragged it. Found a space and delicately placed everything in order. But damn do I miss that tent and night air and fires and owls and birds at 5:30am.  It was all a kid’s dream.

I spent a week allowing… many weeks, actually, but only referencing this one.

I rolled on. All the gear you’d need to get by in the woods seemed appropriately stored with Brandan and Nicole and Reid. I spent a week there playing house boy… I spent a week trying to keep my head down productively… and the music I remember hearing said “I know, I know I should lay low, I should stand tall…”

I shut it down in an deliberate way, and grieved as adventures in housesitting began. Ghani found a friend in Bruin… I distracted myself with cable news and walks in the neighborhood, and the music I heard said “You told me you wanted to eat up my sadness…” and I thought, well, here’s a knife and fork. In the mean time, Carmen was painting a room for me in the basement… my new man-cave.

And the music I heard asked, “Does it feel too real…” and I though, no, it feels just real enough.

I moved into the happy home of Carmen and Andrew. I have a lime room and an office. Ghani has a cool basement to sleep away hot summer days, but still makes her way upstairs whenever activity intrigues her, especially when food is involved. We discovered that if you want a kiss from Ghani, you have to say “dog food”. She knows where the love is.

Carmen and Andrew fill the house with brilliant music and food and wine. Everything is fresh and locally grow. The back yard is a vineyard, which they’ll let produce grapes next year. Never, ever miss the opportunity to have dinner with them… you’ll be in for a real treat. I’m lucky to be here.

And the music I remember hearing said, “I didn’t want to go to bed and I didn’t want to stay awake…” so I contemplated how having a strong intuition is both a blessing and a curse, in relationship to absorbing one’s gait and silhouette.

On the books… OHC promotion… Brian’s site… Julie’s site… Ralston’s site… tidying up the sites for Drew and Folias… CD art for Folias… all things ArtPrize and “I’m one of those Americans”… Humanfiles… GRSD… shooting… etc., etc. That should keep me busy for a while… it’s funny how you can move into town and suddenly stir demand. I’ll play catch-up, as long as circumstantial depression doesn’t drown me.

And the music I remember hearing said, “the old town cryer says it… the inveterate liar says it… the pilchard, the bream, and the trout in the stream… Babe, I’m on fire… Babe, I’m on fire…”

Vagabond… not ideal, but I’ll give it a try, and see how this bartering thing works. An imaginary schedule could look like this… as you can see, my plate is full for the next two months… I have to find something to do for half of October… in November I could duck out to the Outer Banks of North Carolina and play house boy for Brian and Michelle, as long as I make myself useful… I could spend the month of December in a stone house in Harper’s Ferry, WV… maybe by then I’ll have a house guest and spend Christmas in the mountains. Maybe I’ll just come home. Maybe I won’t go anywhere.

I just got an email from Dave Harvey saying he was proud of me. And the music I just heard said, “I’m not afraid to get it right, I turn around, and give it one more try…”

Things are going to be just fine.