The days are growing shorter. September is hours away, and this morning I wore a light jacket in the morning. I used to look forward to summers transition to fall, this year…well, it’s going to happen, so what’s it matter what I think? The state fair is in full swing, and living as close as I do to the fairgrounds, I can hear, off in the distance, the sounds of whatever band is playing tonight…you know the sound of a concert that’s already started as you arrive late and quickly walk towards the venue? That muffled sound of live music wafting through the air to your distant ears? Yeah. Thats what I’m listening to now…if I’m not mistaken, it’s Pat Benatar.
The air is cool tonight…took a ride to Riverfront Park and hung out with Anthony and his drums. God the sun is a beautiful thing…as fall transitions to winter, it becomes a rare commodity in the dreary rains of the fucking Northwest. A beautiful place to live, if you want to be depressed and shut in. My windows are all open, I’m serenaded by Love Is A Battlefield, in a foggy distant way. The cool air is enveloping me and it’s oh so soothing…the sky is darkening. Stand in the kitchen and listen…crickets from the yard next door, Jim’s place…singing their nightly song of whatever it is they sing about. It’s a fucking beautiful night…in a world full of violence and hate, of dissension and hypocrisy, of division and destruction and drivel, nature is happening and this is a gorgeous evening.
Today, I found a dime…and a nickel…and another dime, and a quarter, and a penny. And I listened to Anthony. You know, he gave me a hug, like he often does, and invited me to his place for a beer…or horseshoes…or a joint. And I’m so introverted and uptight that I mumbled something about “Yeah, ok, man…”. Chuckle.
I wish I could be cool…not repressed. Comfortable in my own skin, able to speak my mind and stand up to others…stand up for myself. But I can’t. Fuck it all. I miss you, little boy, I miss you every second day of every minute of every God forsaken hour and I wish death would reunite us this very moment…this world is no longer what it once was, but who cares either way? What’s done is done.
Tomorrow will be a week since I took my bongos to a drum circle and made some noise with a bunch of people with drums…what a rush…and tomorrow I’ll do it again. “You be you, I’ll be me.” Just killing time until I get the courage or my heart stops naturally. This place…ain’t so grand.
A train is crossing Portland Road, and Pat’s voice is being g drowned out by its loud train horns…fall is in the air, September awaits, and mankind is missing the boat. Ok. Just some random ramblings from a guy who found fifty one cents today.