At least we have a plan

I went back to Des Moines this week for a Jeremy Messersmith concert.  I cried a lot.  Maybe because I’ve been bottling up a lot of my aching for that city.  Maybe because I finally felt safe again in my city.  It might have been relief that didn’t translate well.  It might have been an apologetic Jacob Marley asking me to lock on the chains that keep me dreaming of the freedom of messy grace, second chances, and no “I’m sorrys”.  It might have been a sort of conflict inside me, less a battle, and more wind pushing the water into waves.  Whatever it was, its a moment.  And life has innumerable moments.

I wrote a paper tonight.  9 pages in 3 hours.  I am pretty proud of myself for that.  Of course, I shouldn’t put things off that far.  But it all worked out in the end.  So I won’t complain.  This month will be busy.  The rest of the year will be busy.  But I’m not scared.

I want to explore and discover and remember.  I want to laugh and wrap up in blankets in the winter and sweat under the sun in July.  I want to be Clark, or even Lewis.  I want to believe in hazy, undefined edges to the map.  I want to believe there is always more to discover.  I want to think fire is mystical and the stars are more than burning balls of gas.  I want  to do everything routine, commonplace, and mundane.  And I want to do it naked.

I don’t think pants are required for movie watching or playing old video games.  Shirts are optional, but only recommended in the cold.  I think cigars and cider are requirements for fall.  I think the only thing you should strive to be is centered.  Read Shakespeare aloud.  Nestle your cold toes underneath someone else’s warm body and share your body heat when someone else does the same.  Its the golden rule.  I think music is the key to the soul.  And I don’t know if I love anything more than making it, hearing it, and even seeing it.  Write about anything.  And bundle up in the winter, no matter how stupid you look.

Be yourself. Whatever that means.

 

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