i dusted my guitar yesterday and pumped air into my bicycle and rode the river for a while. god willing i might meet some old chords and new friends and find my way back to source. a dusting off may not go a great distance but i’m telling you…every creative effort makes a moment a little brighter for me and you. and that’s something to love about life.
we drank coffee and squeezed oranges
in the morning. canadien whisky
at night with milk. smoking
4 finger lids
the letter c
started to stick
i had to find oil
and take arms
she was essential
to my vocabulary
tuning our guitars together
swimming out past the
sandbar to the lone buoy
the hammerheads liked to
There were some (in the future) who could not hope to walk unseen down city streets. A loosely affiliated group of citizens who did not so much ask for the kind of attention they were given, collectively or individually.Which was a suitable regimentality for twenty twenty-four. Legend has them born of loose-fisted, assymetrical, left-handed, lipton teaheads just shy of true north. The truth was something else.
They tend to make a lot of noise without speaking, and move like waves. Everyone else wanted to tell them what to do, and they wouldn’t do anything other than what they were told if they were to do what was expected, so atypically they defied expectations. Otherwise they wouldn’t really exist, would they. Ice water was in their throats, not their veins.
You cannot know them in traditional forms of knowing. They have something more intentional or focused, it seems, or something less violent-by-association. Anyone is guessing. They congregate in the shiny bars of the fringe-mainstream. On bicycle hill perhaps. Or in bookstores off the beaten path in the Mission. They have an aversion to snapping turtles and judgments and extemporaneous litigation.
Along with us, they envision a society where the only records are vinyl and photographic memories are stripped and laid out in the sun. But only visions are envisioned. Nothing has been empirically correlated and nothing ever will. The principal objective was not to have one.