|
|
Setting: Patented central VA Bermuda high. Lights: Pale-lavendar sunset, superimposed with a burnt orange sphere. I'm oozing like Sidney Greenstreet in Casablanca... "The Fat Man's scent, me." The one day when you could stare into the sun... and remain sighted. Wading through the air, rather than walking through it. Bugs. Sweat. But I'll be so nostalgic in January. Tying loose ends together all day. Most unnoteworthy for journals. The highlights: Release. Reading about the Twins in the CVille tabloid... recognition, finally, for the splendidness of their voices. Two late afternoon beers and car talk. The confirmation call about DJing Mountain Rasta's party next Saturday, behind the screen at the Jefferson. Fifty foot ceilings. The making of a Big Bass Thing. CD's instead of vynil... maybe no skips? Talk of a Jamaican restaurant opening. There have been worse days. Setting: Room lit only by the blue-white glow of a monitor. Air stirred by fifty-year-old fans. Katydids beyond the window in darkened concert. Time for the ALT-F4 and the "off" button. |
|
|
