Music: We Are Trees

This is what Spotify can do. I searched for songs with "sunset" in the title and I was given a list to browse, listen, and found We Are Trees this way.  Their song "Sunrise, Sunset" captured me with its first "ohh-oh-oh" and held me through to the last beat.  They even have a mesmerizing video (in my opinion) on YouTube for the song.  View it here:

We Are Trees have two EPs available for download through their bandcamp.com website: Boyfriend (July 2010) and Girlfriend (March 2011). Each digital album has four or five songs for your listening pleasure. These are songs I imagine I'd appreciate most while walking in a park, bicycling through neighborhoods, or driving with the windows down on an early spring day in the country. Plenty of trees. Bound to lift a smile on your face with the free-spirited lilt of the instrumentation. Virginia Beach's own James Nee has a voice that provides the just-right optimism his lyrics already contain, he just releases it into every sung lyric. The fullness of the drums and percussion carries the music with that insistent hopefulness of happy-go-lucky songs. I can't stay seated; These are motivating rhythms. The opening guitar in "You" on Girlfriend is thoughtful and comforting. The melodies are happy, wistful, wishful, but the lyrics address relationship troubles on the horizon in this 2-minute song: "How am I supposed to try to pretend that everything's all right". This might be my second favorite song by them other than "Sunrise, Sunset" on Boyfriend, which was my first impression and introduction to the their magic. Girlfriend's last song has more electric power and push, more energy to send you off into your day. View this lovely video here:
We Are Trees - I Don't Believe In Love from Illusive Media on Vimeo.
So a late Saturday night browsing in Spotify turned into a magical discovery of uplifting music. What a sweet gift.

Addict

I find it just a little mind-boggling how a book read twice during high school was one of the contributing texts that convinced me to not pursue drugs, curious as I might have been, and yet it continues to be banned and removed from public and school libraries.  When I read it I did not know that it was actually a work of fiction or imaginatively compiled and edited diary entries of a psychologist's patient instead of the claimed anonymous diary of a troubled teen. Go Ask Alice was a quick read that both sparked curiosity in certain drugs but also solidified my own grounded sense of self-control and self-preservation.  I wanted to be freer than I felt, but the stories told by those who went too far with drugs never presented them as being free and in control of their lives, but instead wracked with the turmoil caused by heroin, cocaine, acid, ecstasy, and meth.

I remember reading Go Ask Alice sometime in eighth or ninth grade for the first time.  I read it again my senior year because I had a friend (on whom I had a crush on) who progressed from one drug to another during the fall semester until one day he came to school so high on acid that he allegedly had danced like a chicken on the discipline dean's desk. His charisma had perked my interest, and if I had been in the right place at the wrong time I would have tried anything with him just to be around him.  And I realized this, so I set my feet back on the ground by rereading Go Ask Alice.  And when I learned he went to rehab during the winter break, I sent my book by way of a friend to him.  I don't recall if he ever said he got it, or if my friend succeeded in getting it to him.  I never did manage to run with any friends who did hard drugs, but I knew some of my classmates did. I've never seen the made-for-TV movie based on the book.

I believe I read Foxfire by Joyce Carol Oates during my freshman year, or the summer before sophomore year.  Foxfire was another novel that had a real weight of honesty and reality drawn into the plot.  I don't remember specifics from the novel so much anymore because in 1996 a film was made from the novel, leaving out some of the lengthy plot and adding a few more twists. When I think of Foxfire I recall mostly scenes from the film.  A mix-match group of girls bonded together by the same cause, who help and protect each other when various problems rise up in each one's lives.  The hardest of them all is Goldie and how her drug addiction spirals into a mess of problems and disappointment.

There's any number of songs that heighten and raise up the creativity-inducing elements of drugs, but there's nearly an equal amount that share the ails of addiction.  I did not hear this song when it first came out but instead heard it years later when I delved into a myriad of female indie-alternative folk musicians.  Somehow I came across K's Choice and their song "Not An Addict."  The song's lyrics are poignant, nevermind that the intro is like a sad crying of someone desperate, alone, addicted, and wrecked.

I've still never tried acid or 'shrooms, and certainly have never tried anything like the cocaine, heroin, meth, etc.  A glass of wine, a beer, a little bourbon is about as far as my interests go.  But even alcohol is something I approach cautiously, knowing that I do have an addictive nature if I let it go completely.  I've never liked the idea of drinking to get drunk because the few times I have felt drunk I did not find it a pleasant feeling that I wanted to repeat.  No, instead, I have a glass or two of wine with a meal, or three beers over the course of a long evening, followed by a glass of water.  I have fun by being surrounded by music, or talking with people, or taking pictures.  I enjoy being myself with friends who are stronger and more entertaining than any state-altering drug could propose.

Writing Prompts to return

I hope that I turn this leaf and return to a routine I enjoyed for some time.  This routine is once, maybe twice, a week sitting down to spend between 20-30 minutes to think and write from a prompt.  This almost always creates a new path for more writing time as I find the writing prompt brought something I was pleased with onto the page, pleased enough to spend time editing and writing more on the topic.

My favorite prompts are usually from song lyrics, so I will post three here to share as inspiration for whomever that may read and decide to spend some time writing from a prompt as well. I have also linked the song title and musician's name in case you are inspired by their music.

Tips: Choose a prompt. Weigh a few possibilities. Then write without interruption for 12-15 minutes. If, while writing, you’re at a loss for material, shift to another of the five senses (sight, sound, smell, touch, taste); or shift your perspective from high to low, from close to far away; or consider the journalist’s five questions—who, what, when, where, why. 

1.  "Behind my eyes you're fixin' to see the dam break"  - Samantha Crain, "The Dam Song"

2.  "And they'll teach you not to pray to light, without you pray to rain."  - Danny Schmidt, "This Too Shall Pass"

3.  "And my soul is thirsty for a forest or a songbird."  - Alexa Woodward, "Songbird"

Remember, these are copyrighted lyrics, so do not include the lyric in your own writing, but let the scene or thoughts they inspire be what paints your vision.

Lone Time

Lake Overholser, Oklahoma

I think I know why I have been in a funk lately.  I haven't spent long quiet lonely hours in nature this summer.  Instead, I holed myself up in the house every evening watching something on hulu.com or packing and unpacking.  I haven't spent much time outside photographing nature, have entirely me time.  I noticed that was a phase I took on during my second year in Berea, usually lasting a month or almost two.  When I first realized this, I was talking with a friend who does something similar but during Winter and moreso into books, but more sociable in late Spring and part of Summer. I recognized that in June or July I would go for long meandering walks, music playing, spend hours on trails in the woods with or without a camera, and always alone.  Call it meditative alone-ness, call it me time, call it whatever you will, but I think I missed it this Summer and I realize now that is why I have been facing a major funk (in addition to some other stress-inducing and emotional stuff).  A funk that has felt like a sink-hole depression.

So, Saturday during the day I am going to heal.  I have some obligations that evening, but I will get up Saturday and Sunday and go away from the city and be in some rural space and realign myself with my being.  I hope it will help. And I will need to make more room for this the rest of October.... I don't want to know what my Winter will be like without this lone time.  So here we go.

scatterbrain productivity

It is a love/hate relationship... Right now I feel like moving all my pictures & videos on my HD to my external HD; edit photos, upload & share; comment on the music I'm listening to; write blogs.  Overly inclined to be productive results in not much getting done 'cause I end up scattering about a little of this and a little of that.

And never mind everything contemplating and over-analyzing and planning or wishing in the back of my mind....

Purpose

In response to someone questioning and contemplating their purpose in life, why they're here, and what they're supposed to be doing:

I think that's the hard part... knowing our purpose. And what we think is our purpose may be one aspect of our life here, but there's another purpose we do manage to fulfill but never consciously know we are fulfilling. 

Sometimes maybe we need to accept that we don't have to know it all, but just be here and do what we feel driven to do for others and ourselves. 

And love and be loved.

Thursday July 7, 2011

Dinner Bell at PenHouse

Woke early and got on the road to Lexington.  I took Highway 25 from Berea to Richmond and meant to stop at Monty's Liquor, but it wasn't on my mind and I drove right past it without it.  Through Richmond I meant to stay on 25, but it always confuses me just north of town and I ended up on I-75 instead. I wanted to drive over that one car bridge in the shadows of big oak trees lining the Kentucky River.  I've heard stories about people disappearing in the neighborhoods around there.

Oh, and we can't forget the music. On the way to Lexington I logged that the Kenny Rogers & Dolly Parton song "Islands in the Stream" struck a little chord or two for me while speeding up I-75. Somewhere along I-64 I remembered my adoration for U2's "Where the Streets Have No Name", although I hoped that I would easily find where I needed to go outside of Frankfort, with or without street names. Here's a couple videos just for fun.

Kit, happy smile

I finally made it to the Panera where Kit and I decided upon meeting and I got a mocha and waited outside for her to arrive.  We talked a long while there about life, work, career choices, dreams, health and medicine, and after a while we realized we'd better get going to her apartment.  Following her down Richmond Road, back onto Man-O-War, and around to one of the off streets and apartment  complexes, I was thinking about the many times I'd driven the 45 minute drive (I made it in 30 one night...) when I had dated someone in the city.   But this apartment complex wrapped around on itself and we parked our cars.  It's an interesting experience to see the interior homes of people you've known for some time but always in public settings like coffeehouses, classrooms, libraries, and stores.  It says a little more about that friend.  Kit called up her son to say hello and I saw that Lane had grown into a bright and energetic teenager.  She and I set up shop to talk about the fabric collage artwork I would create for her using clothing from her best friend who passed away recently.  We sifted through the leopard print, the pretty blue pillowcase, the hoodie.  She also pored over some trinkets she'd collected from her friend and from her own life.  She wanted a little bit of herself in the artwork to bind their friendship together.  We talked over some ideas, symbols, creatures, themes, and then it was time to go.  Time had flown.  It was now 2:30pm.

View from my room at PenHouse

After farewells and hugs, I made my way up I-75 to I-64 to exit 58 for Frankfort to head out to Normandi's and David's farm.  I passed David on the road before arriving at PenHouse, but he was working on turning the curve and I was smiling at recognizing him en route.  I winded down the road, turned up a gravel road with fields of tobacco and corn on my right and a tall line of trees edging the drop below.  AT one point another car was coming toward me down the mostly one-lane road and he drove past me on the right, rising up on the inclining shoulder.  Soon I saw the white farmhouse peeking through the trees on my left and I drove up in between two lovely gateways. I recognized her navy blue car and was glad to know she was home. I peeked in, shouted upstairs, and before long Normandi was showing me the ins-and-outs of PenHouse Retreat Center.  There were several very comfortable and inviting bedrooms with desks, bookshelves stocked with titles by theme for each room.

Bookshelves & Comfy Chair

The Kentucky room appealed to me with its blue window curtains, poetry books, and a view into a great big tree.  The second window by the dresser looked out and down into the bright green valley lined with trees and blooming flowers.  I brought in a few of my things up the endearing creaking wooden stairway, and after I had settled my stuff, I joined Normandi and David at the kitchen table to chat and snack on cucumbers from their garden, cheese, and Ritz crackers.

We talked a while about writing, concepts and themes, upcoming ideas, and what our mutual friends were doing.  Then I rode with Normandi to Frankfort because she had a class to attend at the public library.  There I met up with her daughter Alaina, who showed me all the soap opera actors and actresses she follows and participates with for charities.  She wanted to design a new blog for one of them.  When Normandi's class ended at 8pm, we rode back to the house with Alaina close behind.

We arrived just in time for the musicians who trickled in while we were gone.  Fiddle tunes were coming from the big barn. Musicians included Joel, Tom C, John Hartford, Anna, Marshall, and of course David on his banjo.   We all sat 'round in the circle, me with my camera and video camera. The music went 'round and 'round the group, a leg kick signaling the last turn on any given song.  I can't remember all the songs that played, many of which I hadn't heard in a long long time and a few I hadn't heard ever before.  Alaina had brought around a sling-back chair to lounge and read in, but after a while the comforting music and the warm air made me drowsy.  I managed to record a few songs on video, though the lighting was dark.

Old Time Music Jam in the Barn

Old Time Music Jam in the Barn

Kentucky Room at PenHouse Retreat Center

Most of us retired around 10:30pm, but we ended up chatting a while longer at the kitchen table.  David came in after the tuneful bunch had left, and prepared himself to sleep in the tent by the corn so he'll keep the raccoons away.  Back upstairs in the Kentucky room and pored over the shelves to read the authors she's stockpiled there.  I pulled a couple familiar poetry books to browse and re-read a few poems by some people I know and a few I don't know but appreciate as if I did.  Sleepy, I pulled back the white coverlet, rested my head on the pillow, and turned out the light.

In the backyard, gardens and get-aways

Adirondack chairs for enjoying sunrise to sunset

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Black Feather Cafe lunch & journal

I woke to my alarm but I snoozed it for 30 minutes before finally waking up to Phoebe already in the shower. I moved my car so that she will be able to leave for work; Brian came back by with cinnamon rolls. We each had two -- a perfect breakfast -- and Phoebe left for work. I showered, dresses, prepared for my day in town. What to do? Anglin Falls? Pinnacles? Too hot and humid?

When I first arrived at Black Feather Cafe this morning I met Irene and her daughter Sophia outside, and another woman was there, Karin, and we hit it off fantastic right away. Irene asked me where I was staying, I mentioned Phoebe, and Karin perked up, "You're friends with Phoebe?!" And all the connections were made. Irene was working on her computer; Their home is infested with fleas somehow and was being fumigated. She's engaged to Tate. So when I mentioned I'd be trying to meet up with Clarence later that evening, Karin lit up and "invited herself along" (as she puts it) but really I welcomed her to go with us. I immediately adored her.  But then I started to worry that the time from 5-6 would be too short a visit, especially if part of that was consumed with driving to and from the house.  I was supposed to have dinner with Jack at 6pm at Main Street Cafe.  I promised Phoebe I'd take her to see Clarence's pottery after she gets off work at 5pm.  So I decide to call Jack back and reschedule the dinner for 7pm instead, afraid that I won't get to spend any time visiting with Clarence with Phoebe and Karin. So Jack called me back and said 7pm would be fine with him. Whew!

Lightning Tree, from one angle

Lightning Tree, from another angle

I took a break and drove around Berea for a while again, remembering particular places, events, people. I visited what I call The Lightning Tree and took several pictures of it. I have been told this is a Southern Red Oak tree.  I took a small piece of the interior bark that was revealed by the lightning strike scar.  I took it so that I could bring a little piece of that memory back with me to Oklahoma. This tree inspired a poem where I explore my relationship, memory, and death of my father.  I haven't shared the poem with anyone because it still needs so much work and some parts of it need a softer touch.  The ideas of the poem came to me when I was night-walking around town and I stopped by this tree, looked up at the sky, and saw the constellation for Gemini, my dad's zodiac sign. The tree grew in my mind as a symbol for him: Big, limbs wide and open, scarred, vulnerable though strong, overpowering though protective, and deeply rooted into the earth. 

The Lightning Tree

The Lightning Tree

I walked past Phoebe's workplace and she poked her head out to say, "Hi" and brought me inside for a minute. I snapped a picture of her at work bringing stuff into the kiln to be fired. We talked about the evening trip with Karin to meet Clarence for a chat. So then I got fudge at the Candy Kitchen and a few more pictures downtown.

Phoebe workin' that pottery

Lookin' down Old Town Berea

Five o'clock rolled around and I went to Black Feather, met Karin there and waited for Phoebe. Meantime, Jose was there helping a BC student concerning her car keys locked in her car. Locksmith was called but it had not yet arrived when Phoebe showed up. I walked with Jose about working in OKC and at NCWHM, Rodeo oral histories, etc. He asked about contemporary African American rodeo people being interviewed, but I'm not familiar with any who are being interviewed for the project I know.

So Karin, Phoebe, and I pile into my car and ride up to the homestead and it was a real treat to pull up to see him out there to meet us on the porch. He brought us around to the pottery and showed his turning wheels and other potter ideas, especially concepts for the kiln and the clay body he'd like to have. He showed part of the house and we sat in the kitchen -- like old times -- to talk about pottery, Berea, history, how he and Vicky met their first day at Berea, about the artist community they'd like to create and foster there. Even the history of "Bob-town". I got all teary-eyed. I left the artwork and books for Vicky on a rocking chair. I hope that she finds it a real treat. I miss her and love her.

Clarence

Clarence's Pottery, in progress

Pottery Wheel

Karin (this morning)

It was really hard to leave because I didn't want to go yet and Clarence was talking great stories and sharing the food that Vicky's mom Cleo had brought by while we were there. Cleo remembered me. So when we finally left I gave him another hug and we hopped in the car for the drive back to Berea proper and I got back in time to meet Jack for dinner. Just as I was getting in the car he calls and tells me that Main Street Cafe was closed and that maybe we should eat at Wan Pen. So I met him there and I ordered the Pad Thai with shrimp. Jack and I talked about Berea, the relationships and friendships that have split over time, and other things. Dinner finally over, I left him to find Phoebe; I had a feeling she was still at Karin's so there I found her, and Kaia, too, talking in the grassy backyard.  Karin told me about places in Santa Fe and Taos I should go to when I visit in September. Kaia told me about hostels and museums and shops and restaurants I shouldn't miss either in Albuquerque. Lightning bugs were out and I marveled that I had missed them.  Then we all had to go and it was time for Karin to do some computer work for the evening. Phoebe and I made it back to her house and talked a while about people and things I'd seen and heard that day. Then we kinda waited for Brian to come by the house; We knew he would soon. He finally came and Phoebe met him outside before he could come inside. I wrote for a while and when she came back in we talked a while longer before finally retiring for the evening.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Good Morning, Lily.

I woke close to 10am, just in time to slip on my shoes and move my car so that Phoebe can drive her van to work. I stay at the house a while longer to wash up and get my things together to go to town. I finally arrive at Berea Coffee & Tea at 12:30pm to order what once was my regular lunch: a mocha and a roma panini. I set up my laptop to transfer photos off my camera card and onto my computer and to check email. While I stayed there, Micah arrives and we chat a little on and off again about his trip to Greece, also as he showed pics to his female friend on the couch. Nathan does a double-take when he recognizes me in the coffee shop. He tells me he just bought a little tractor; he's excited about it, and he reminds me to post a message to his wife Jessa that I'm in town (although she never responded to it and we never meet up). Joan comes in for a moment and fixes herself something to drink and takes it back to the church where she is working. Loranell comes in and visits me for a few minutes, sitting at the table and sharing her plans about belly-dancing, etc., and the book tracking she does for next door; It is all manual. I call Jack and make plans for dinner at Main Street Cafe with him for Wednesday night. I communicate via facebook messages with Kit and Normandi to plan Thursday's visits to Lexington and Frankfort to meet them. After a while Beth C. comes in and says hello. We talk about writing and it looks like she is a lot happier working for the Berea Citizen than where she worked before. Jack stops by to solidify our dinner plans and he talks a while. I wonder if he will bring some other folks to have dinner with us.

I finally decide to see the campus so I walk across the street to see the Fee Glade, taking pictures, and some familiar spots around the library and other buildings. I step into the library and visit with Julia for a minute and then Susan, too, before they head home for the day. I make it back to my car before the rain comes down too much. I went to Robie & Robie books and looked along their bookshelves for a while thinking I might get a book or two, but I never found anything that I couldn't live without.  Plus, I was looking for a copy of Chinaberry; I will probably have to order a copy online.  The rain didn't last very long and I drove around town a bit longer before deciding that I would go visit the three places where I lived in Berea: (1) The little red brick duplex leased to me by the college for a year and a half, and this was my favorite humble home and I had several little parties and friends and memories made and left behind; (2) The hole-in-a-wall apartment that was directly across from the railroad tracks, but that was soon forgotten when the fleas hatched in the walls and my poor cats were harassed with these little buggers, never mind the bathroom shower-only drain twice flooding the apartment floors with kitchen-sink sewage; (3) The townhouse apartment where I made the chakra collages, where I began learning the banjo, where I was introduced to bourbon, where I sat on the back porch with a friend listening to him talk about poets, where I began writing Rise When the Rooster Crows.  I took pictures of two of the former homes; The last place had its doors open with new people moving into it during my visit to Berea this year.

1st home: Sweet Memories

2nd home: Dreadful Days

Loranell's Electric VW Van

I find Robert on facebook; We plan to meet at the coffee shop, so I return there and meet Nick for a while. He tells me about his new apartment, his train ride out West, all his friends moving away, and again about his super cool vintage apartment. Nine rolls around on the clock and I move my perch to the table on the front patio and wait for Robert to arrive. Just when I was about to give up and he rolls up in a borrowed red truck. We sat outside until about 10:30pm talking and catching up on all the new things going on in his life. But I was tired by 10:30 and finally said goodnight, but not before Loranell finished up closing next door and drove her electric van around the corner.  It is the quietest moving vehicle I've seen yet... 

I drove all the way back to Phoebe's, in the dark, worried about a wrong turn or awkward dip in the road. I got home, looked to the sky, and found a map of stars, unfolded and revealing. I should've stayed and stared but instead I packed up my laptop, camera, and bottles of water for returning inside Phoebe's gypsy home. So upon entering Phoebe woke and told me about her day at work, being yelled at, leaving early in tears, coming home to read and nap and try to get rid of a headache. And we talked about differences between how the town looks and her and another ostracized female in the community, the town's response to their actions and decisions and what that meant for the women and for the community. Bubbles broken. We began to settle down for bed; I'd already switched to the PJ pants when a knock came on the door as it was being opened. Brian came in. So Phoebe comes out, face incredulous, and they talk for a while on the back porch. I finally go to sleep.

Danforth Chapel, Berea College campus

Danforth Hall, Berea College campus

Hutchins Library, Berea College campus

Boone Tavern & Inn, Berea, Kentucky

Monday, July 4, 2011

Good morning, Harley!

Monday, we slept in a while, sat around talking, and Phoebe's friend Brian stopped by. I could tell right away I didn't care much for him -- He didn't seem entirely there and when she asked him a question it was like he wanted to control how much of the information he wanted to share with her, which was frustrating to her because she can tell he was withholding info she requested to know. He left after a while, but not before I'd stepped into the shower. Afterwards I looked around the property, snapping pics of the mountains, the backyard, her little front porch, Harley walking, Harley sitting, Harley looking at me... It was a misty morning and there was a morning haze across the rolling hills in the distance.

hot and cold

We got cleaned up, and decided it was time for coffee, but being as it was a major holiday, the local coffee shops would be closed.  So we drove to Richmond to Starbucks. I went for hot, Phoebe went for cold, and Screamin' Jay Hawkins was singing through the radio, "I Put A Spell on You."  Caffeinated, I felt a ton better, but overall I was still a little sick from the long road-worn trip.
"I love you anyhow, And I don’t care, If you don’t want me, I’m yours right now. You hear me, I put a spell on you, Because you’re mine" - Screamin' Jay Hawkins, "I Put a Spell on You"
After we got back to the house, we went for a walk down the road, and met the neighbors' alpacas and a llama. The alpacas were the cutest little creatures, but ol' Harley dog was protective and wanted to bark them away.  I took pictures nonetheless. There was also a grey horse on the other side of the fence, a pretty sight for a camera lens. The knobs were a dark green against a bright and sunny sky, and I took just too many pictures to remember by....

squash, corn hole toss, and burgers

After a while it was finally time to head into town to meet Brian, Bill, Tiffany, Jimmy, and Crystal for a Fourth of July cookout. When we finally found the right place without much directional help from Brian, we had some beer, wine, pigs-in-blankets, pasta, and watched fireworks being shot off all around us. The city's fireworks could be seen just over the treeline, and a zealous citizen had some big ones being shot from his backyard a few houses down from the cookout. It wasn't long before Phoebe and I grew tired Jim (the 54-year-old rude man who proudly proclaimed he was rude and thus obviously thought it was a favorable attractive trait to women). Phoebe had brought her poi, and with a little friendly coaxing, some of her friends persuaded her to do a little fire dancing. I took some pictures, and didn't get a chance to record any of it.

Berea Fireworks

Phoebe said we should go to Lesa's house because Bev would be there soon, so off in the car we went across town to a sprawling neighborhood. Here we find cobalt blue bottles, a pretty little white dog named Piper, and, well, something I can't talk about. I finally convince Phoebe that she needs to eat; She'd drank some wine at the cookout, but I never saw her eat. So Lesa feeds to four of us: Wheat thins, smoked turkey and roast beef, cheese, guacamole, and sherbert. Phoebe fire dances again so that the citronella fuel is used up.

Phoebe, fire dancer

And then Brian appears again and we leave to head home. I'm annoyed at him; He drives very close behind me all the way back to the house, and though it is unnecessary, he comes in and stands around. He only needed to pull back out of the driveway, waving, to see that we got safely home. So he stands and watches us get settled into the house, and he smokes a cigarette on the back porch with Phoebe. He leaves, finally, and we go to sleep, me on the couch under a quilt with the air conditioner unit cooling the room quickly, her into her room full of clothes hanging on the walls, in the closets, dresser, and growing mountains.

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Louie B. Nunn Pkwy ahead.

After driving through the rolling country of I-40 to Nashville, Tennessee, I pulled off I-65 at Franklin, Kentucky, for a very late lunch. Burger King fries and a grilled chicken sandwich was half-gobbled before I felt sick and disgusted at the meal and how quickly I had attempted to eat it. Back on the road again, I rolled past Bowling Green, and onto Louie B. Nunn Parkway. I stopped in Columbia for gas, hoping the fuel contained no ethanol; There were no signs signaling it was in use or not. When I finally came to Somerset, turned onto 461 North towards Mt. Vernon, I began to see the cut-through rock hills I witnessed the first time I had driven this route. I remembered the September rain, the uncertainty of my Nancy exit and the narrow Highway 80 road taken way too early. I was driving my mother's van heading to Berea for my first archival job and this wrong turn felt like a bad omen on the rest of the adventure; I was wrong.

Remember that Nancy exit...

I kept tabs on my phone and facebook status throughout my trip. Just before turning onto I-75 North I typed "Mt. Vernon." Fourteen miles later, exit 76, slowing down to 35 mph on Highway 25, St. Clare Catholic Church on the left and antique stores on the right, slow to a stop, flip the turn signal and wait to roll down the hill into Old Town Berea.

I stopped across from the skating rink and got out of the car, stretched my legs, and looked around. It was a gorgeous blue sky Sunday. All the businesses here were closed after 5pm, and I heard the train coming down the tracks. I strained to see it pass, thinking of my midnight walks along the tracks and a poem I had written confessing adoration. The depot was under construction and all other immediate view was blocked. I listened as it passed by and saw the cars begin to line up on Jefferson.

Janie and me at Papa Leno's

Legs stretched, I got back in the car and turned onto Jefferson, Ellipse, then back into town towards Papa Leno's where I'd meet Janie for dinner. I park across the street from Main Street Cafe, walked past Berea Coffee & Tea, and sat down on the white steps to type "Berea, KY" as my status. Then I "checked-in" at Papa Leno's restaurant, called Janie, and soon she appeared grinning. Hugs followed. We went inside, meandered over the menu, and settled on a vegetarian pizza. Meanwhile I recognized Chappy and said hellos and introductions and hugs. I was tongue-tied tired and stumbled over saying he plays my favorite cover of Ryan Adams' song "Winding Wheel." I checked my phone and Phoebe exclaimed "I NEED YOUR PHONE NUMBER" on my check-in. She called and settled on coming soon. Janie and I talked about work and life and dating. Phoebe eventually arrived, and finally Adam recognized us (he put his glasses on) after having come and gone several times without acknowledging us when I waved. He sat with us and joked. We had time-warped 3 years earlier.

Phoebe and Adam

After while Janie had to depart for the evening, get rest for her long road trip back home Monday amid Fourth of July traffic. Farewell hugs, walks around the corner, PT Cruiser smiles, waves goodbye. I missed her a lot.

Meet Harley

Eventually Phoebe, Adam, and I made our way to the back parking lot of Boone Tavern and I met Harley, a great big sweet dog who is apprehensive around men and protective of women, especially Phoebe. Adam needed a haircut and so Phoebe offered up her scissors. She proceeded to cut inches off around his head; Curb Cuts was discovered. One free haircut later we stood around laughing over the pictures I'd taken of them, then Adam shared his charity idea named after a Stephen King story, The Longest Walk. We sorted out all the details, exceptions, specifics, goals, prizes, purposes, media -- all the necessary bits and pieces.

The light faded. I had to take pictures with a flash instead of opening up the shutter and aperture. Slowly the conversation quieted, we struggled to find something we haven't already talked about. We hugged and I said goodnight to Adam. Harley got back in the van and I followed Phoebe out to Owsley Fork, past Big Hill, and over some hills. I was in wonder of her humble abode. A gypsy home, full of scarves and pillows, feathers and plants, artwork in progress. A pallet made on the couch, I found deep slumber from the long day, my winding wheel.

Phoebe's bag

You might ask why this video of Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers singing "Refugee" follows this post. It is the one song I logged on Sunday during my drive for having listened to it from the radio. Other days from the road trip will have better music notation to correspond with events. Enjoy.