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so where the hell was i.... Richmond. money burning in my pocket, a little surprise gift for removing some trees after a storm, a few weeks ago. Objective: music. thanks to the trip down to the beach, and the subsequent detour to the city for Biggles, and casting my gaze on the mountain of sounds not found anywhere else... it was eating at me. expecting the record companies to lay anything other than what they want to chart is a big mistake. anything of interest, you've got to find for yourself. and lay out the bucks. fine, if you've got them. i'm supposed to be of the age where you only want to add to your wealth, instead of fritter it away. depending upon what you consider "wealth" to be. adrenaline rush and discovery is wealth, to me. so, richmond it was... one of those cities whose time in the sun was in the fifties and sixties, with the artifacts still in place to show it. brain food, for the optically oriented. thanks to the many road trip this summer (which may also be construed as wealth and purpose), the trip down was effortless and quick. i guess the earlier drunken stumbling through the backstreets paid off in its own way... at least i was paying some attention at the time. directly to the diner, and the jukebox to begin the proceedings... tanking up with some firey cajunness and musical obscurities. then, to the record bins and the antiquities... those parts that weren't burned to the ground, over a hundred years ago. or fifty years ago. architectural and cultural flavor... which only equates to the street festivals or the county fair, once a year back home. etching new images onto the retina, the brain, and the card. i still love the openness of the country... but miss the open-mindedness. such a quandary: where to exist? isn't there some in-between place where you can have both? i ask too much, obviously. because i still have to go back to where the stuff is. and, where i tend to hide out... as i have been doing to the extreme of late. the Rut. i've given up complaining about it, especially the matrimonial part. mainly, because numb has been beating rage. so far. though nothing has really changed, aside from the constant conflict... that's backed off. unfortunately, my determination with my writing and picture-taking has done the same. at least, saturday was different. not sunday (mowing and pepper-processing) or monday (driving to work) or tuesday (another twelve hours) or today (another twelve). yet, the beat goes on. a bit wealthier, too. |
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