While the summer world wonders about when their pallid skin will become flecked by sun-gold, I wonder per usual what place is, my relation to it, and what it ought to be. Today I am trying to tell myself to get that good thing goin' and I think that "good thing" might be to stay put. In the post-grad off-shoot job hunt and gather I think of the big money city and the small gritty anonymity of my hometown. Wasn't this always the problem? Did I not always have some governing awareness that the country had to and would always be home in light of its problematic nature? The questions are getting to be irrelevant. It is about the doing. So a little interview here and a little one there and a beer on a porch there and a swim over yonder; a couple buttons up and a few ones down. I'm listening to the gravel road of Greg Brown's voice, the siren call of Explosions in the Sky, and Townes Van Zandt's bar-room ghost. Today is going to be alright.
At the swimming hole this prior afternoon I saw loons knifing the water, howling punch-drunk from hemlock to hemlock and pine to pine while the girls of summer pinching the gossip buttocks sent back their inane call and I thought, "There is nothing less-appealing than conversations about plans next to conversations about weather." Yes, I have plans. I make them from time to time but they don't define much. They are escape routes, let us be honest. I want the Ram Das power of being here now. How great it is to be somewhere with the sun in sight and green all around. Simple. Say it simple. Observe it simple.
