Friday, February 02, 2007

Jesus freaks, out in the street
Handing tickets out for God

So, what up?

Things are fine here in Southwestern Montana.

It is late, and the moon is shining off the snow, and it makes you think of when you were younger. When you didn't have a care and the world was at your feet; like your memories, longer than the road that stretches out of here.

When you laughed like nothing else mattered.

Young and strong, like a match strike, flaring brightly, an ephemeral beacon of what could be, what was, what might have been.

Sepia-toned nostalgia, riding your bike on the railroad tracks, wondering if you will ever get there, absorbing the bumpita-bumpita-bumpita-bumpita of the railroad ties, reaching the moment when you feel, "Jesus, this is adventure," and suddenly the rush of danger and adrenaline whooooshes through your arteries when you realize there is no escape; you are on the bridge, committed, and you are pedaling for your life, cattails and mucky marsh to your left, weeping willows and leaning cottonwoods on your right.

(I realize that contained a lot of Words, too many adjectives, far too many commas and a semi-colon that made you scratch your head. Chill. Pretend you are listening to music instead of reading, and let it all flow over you, likes waves, crashing over the beach.)

((Nevertheless, the aforementioned sentence is unassailable. Go ahead and crash your ship against its rocky shores. Avast, scurvy dogs. Except for K-Top and Tony, both of whom are swinging from the rigging with a knife in their teeth, raining hellfire from on high, nobody will survive.))

(((K-Top, Tony... start your own blog. I sure would love to read your thoughts. )))

Stolen glances, secret romances, a passing caress, along an arm, fingers lingering, a final touch. Pause. Christ, breathe... if you can. Inhale. Exhale. Concentration. Temptation. It's making me late.

((((Hi, Mike Bellcock. Jim Lauby. Paul? Hey. (((((Come out here, mothertruckers.)))))) Hi, Jenny Landdeck. Jimmy MrDutt, 'sup? Stanny. Yo. Alison, I love you, baby. You too, Tony, but you already know that. Carp. You have given us a gift that keeps on giving. We're almost ready for primetime.)))

All the friends and family.

All the memories going round, round, round...

I I have wished for so long.

I have wished for you today.

There's no need to say goodbye.

((((((Josh, Sherry, Randy, Larry... man, do I miss playing with you. I don't play volleyball anymore. I miss it. I do. It was a good, fun, thing... kicking everyone's ass, and telling them what we just did. OK. I told them. I can talk shit with the best of them.))))))

I live here:

You gotta admit, I deliver.

Vicariously, of course.