Rumors of My Death Are Greatly Exaggerated--Lrod Update
Posted: February 10th, 2008, 3:07 pm
Open letter to my dear friends on Studio Eight:
I hate form letters. They are time-saving devices like toasters and telephones. Time is currency better spent than saved. But this is a form letter to update my adventures.
Don't castrate your dreams, they are the seeds of tomorrow. The only direction is forward, at least that's what my compass tells me. My compass is a quirky instrument but I err when I ignore it. Yes, it operates on magnetism like all compasses do, but it also senses other vibrations--the body language of the universe, the distinct inflection of the music of the spheres, the odor of liars and thieves. Yes, the compass is hard to read, baffling in fact. Forward at the top, Forward at the bottom, Forward on the left, Forward on the right, but I dare not lose it.
Rejection doesn't hurt unless it comes from one you love or respect. Thus, I am largely immune to it. But not always. My lover thinks I rejected her and I think she rejected me. All points on the compass point Forward.
Back to the narrative:
I caught a plane from Virginia to Tennessee. It was a bumpy ride over the mountains and strip mines of W. Virginia. My face was in the bag most of the way. It was a small plane because I don't dare get on a big one. My foul affair with the Dept. of Homeland Superstition.
I thought I was receiving asylum in Nashville. House in the hills with hot tub and swimming pool and recording studio and 88 key piano, deer running in the yard, a bamboo grove. I thought I had landed in heaven. But 'asylum' can quickly become 'insane-asylum.'
But the work must go on. I departed Nashville for Dallas, from where I write. I rode with a crazy soldier that I met on Craig's List. He was driving from Boston to Arizona to report for active duty. When he picked me up in Nashville, he had been awake for 36 hours. He said he was trained for this sort of thing. At dawn in Texarkana he began hallucinating flocks of crows in the sky.
I reminded him that crows don't come in flocks, they come in murders. Every now and then his head would slump and we would be going 35 mph on the interstate with the big trucks whistling by. I was using every device to keep him awake, jokes, music, sudden moves. By the time we got to Dallas delirium had set in and we were concocting new businesses like using road-kill rabbit skins to make ball warmers, you know, scrotum sacks. We were going to call them Global Warmers and sell them on the internet.
Luckily I arrived safely in Dallas. Word got out and I began getting calls from old friends.
Dallas is my home. I can't escape it. You can hear it in my speech. Coming home is a nostalgic thing. Some landmarks are the same, some have changed. You have mixed feelings. I told you there was no Back on my compass, only Forwards. It's hard to observe change when you see it in gradual increments day by day. But when you look away for six years, it's easier to notice the changes. People are older, buildings are newer. My feelings are mixed.
It took me a few days to get hooked up to the World Wide Web. AT&T came and hooked me up. Doreen sent me my old computer. It was like being reunited with an old friend. All my files and software were just where I left them. It took me three years to learn to play this computer. It's like a well worn guitar. I know all it's quirks.
I have spent the past couple of months camping out on other people's computers to check my email etc. Using someone else's computer is a more intimate relationship than sleeping on their couch or even using their toothbrush. I'm never quite comfortable with it. Everybody sets their machine up to suit themselves. This is as it should be. But how people choose to organize their files and machines is very instructive about their personalities. These are things that I probably don't want to know.
I don't have a piano yet. I didn't realize how attached I had become to that instrument. I wake up in the middle of the night and my fingers are shaped like an A minor.
Otherwise, everything is everything and I am safe. Ever Onward Soldier Smokers.
Mainly, I just wanted to tell you all (wait, I'm in Texas now) Ya'll, that I will be more present here on Studio Eight now that I am reconnected.
Lrod
I hate form letters. They are time-saving devices like toasters and telephones. Time is currency better spent than saved. But this is a form letter to update my adventures.
Don't castrate your dreams, they are the seeds of tomorrow. The only direction is forward, at least that's what my compass tells me. My compass is a quirky instrument but I err when I ignore it. Yes, it operates on magnetism like all compasses do, but it also senses other vibrations--the body language of the universe, the distinct inflection of the music of the spheres, the odor of liars and thieves. Yes, the compass is hard to read, baffling in fact. Forward at the top, Forward at the bottom, Forward on the left, Forward on the right, but I dare not lose it.
Rejection doesn't hurt unless it comes from one you love or respect. Thus, I am largely immune to it. But not always. My lover thinks I rejected her and I think she rejected me. All points on the compass point Forward.
Back to the narrative:
I caught a plane from Virginia to Tennessee. It was a bumpy ride over the mountains and strip mines of W. Virginia. My face was in the bag most of the way. It was a small plane because I don't dare get on a big one. My foul affair with the Dept. of Homeland Superstition.
I thought I was receiving asylum in Nashville. House in the hills with hot tub and swimming pool and recording studio and 88 key piano, deer running in the yard, a bamboo grove. I thought I had landed in heaven. But 'asylum' can quickly become 'insane-asylum.'
But the work must go on. I departed Nashville for Dallas, from where I write. I rode with a crazy soldier that I met on Craig's List. He was driving from Boston to Arizona to report for active duty. When he picked me up in Nashville, he had been awake for 36 hours. He said he was trained for this sort of thing. At dawn in Texarkana he began hallucinating flocks of crows in the sky.
I reminded him that crows don't come in flocks, they come in murders. Every now and then his head would slump and we would be going 35 mph on the interstate with the big trucks whistling by. I was using every device to keep him awake, jokes, music, sudden moves. By the time we got to Dallas delirium had set in and we were concocting new businesses like using road-kill rabbit skins to make ball warmers, you know, scrotum sacks. We were going to call them Global Warmers and sell them on the internet.
Luckily I arrived safely in Dallas. Word got out and I began getting calls from old friends.
Dallas is my home. I can't escape it. You can hear it in my speech. Coming home is a nostalgic thing. Some landmarks are the same, some have changed. You have mixed feelings. I told you there was no Back on my compass, only Forwards. It's hard to observe change when you see it in gradual increments day by day. But when you look away for six years, it's easier to notice the changes. People are older, buildings are newer. My feelings are mixed.
It took me a few days to get hooked up to the World Wide Web. AT&T came and hooked me up. Doreen sent me my old computer. It was like being reunited with an old friend. All my files and software were just where I left them. It took me three years to learn to play this computer. It's like a well worn guitar. I know all it's quirks.
I have spent the past couple of months camping out on other people's computers to check my email etc. Using someone else's computer is a more intimate relationship than sleeping on their couch or even using their toothbrush. I'm never quite comfortable with it. Everybody sets their machine up to suit themselves. This is as it should be. But how people choose to organize their files and machines is very instructive about their personalities. These are things that I probably don't want to know.
I don't have a piano yet. I didn't realize how attached I had become to that instrument. I wake up in the middle of the night and my fingers are shaped like an A minor.
Otherwise, everything is everything and I am safe. Ever Onward Soldier Smokers.
Mainly, I just wanted to tell you all (wait, I'm in Texas now) Ya'll, that I will be more present here on Studio Eight now that I am reconnected.
Lrod
