Listening to: The Smiths, Louder Than Bombs
As the magically hip are aware, I'm visiting with my love, swamped with humidity I'm not accustomed to, a pilgrim shot back eastward into the arms of someone greater than the sum of me and certainly better than anything I deserve.
Those who know say that I have "better things to do" and aren't expecting me to post, at least not this weekend ask why, WHY would I be here, here, chatting this thing up? Why not entwined amongst my fair lady's thighs and rutting like a rabid ferret, shredding the mattress into little clouds to pass through the room with precipitation promised, mmmmmm yes, why indeed? Except that she has things to read and write and fill out for this her third year of college, there's no other reason but that I'm bored.
Hearing old poetry and journal entries of hers, CDs that mean something, trying to figure out what she'll write next, I'm in the shadow of something that I that I can't just blow away with a puff from my lips. Sitting here in Illinois, figuring out something to do now while she figures out her future a few weeks down the road, I realize there's a bigger legacy to contend with than I'd considered. A legacy so big, I wonder if I will ever overcome the shadow that seems to darken every inch of continent I try and inhabit.
In the meantime, I'm checking my email to see if anyone has commented on my previous posts and find that I'm finally a victim of comment spamming. There's bigger things to turn in my sphere and I also have to deal with fly shit who have nothing better to do than shill their worthless product on my blog? If I had a gun and a target to plug, these spammers would have gray-matter spread across the mounds of garbage that spawned them.
Lu's neighbors saw me smoking on the porch and invited us over to celebrate another human brought into this mess. Not something Lu was up for but I went ahead and crossed the street to shoot the shit and drink with them, no matter how inconsequential my presence would be, excused Lu with her mass of homework (which, indeed, she had to do). They were good folks, loud, drunk, fun, welcoming of a Colorado alien in their midst and generous with their food and booze.
Still, I wonder if, given the chance to transcend their circumstances, they'd take the opportunity to spam blog accounts, emails, shoot shit into people's private lives for the sake of a few more bucks. In the hour or so I spent with them, I got the sense that every single one of them would have taken the opportunity to spread that shadow a bit further, for a few more shekels, for another trip to Mazatlan.
Listening to The Smiths, I get the sense that shadow is part of the landscape, here. It's up to me to see something else, make something else and if I can, I will. If not here, than somewhere else, I guess. But she's here and this is the place where I need to get it done. Now. Tonight.
If not now, then never.