Chapter 25 of Words and Sentences
Puzzle-making punctuated by the rain falling on the roof.
Marathons, travels, thank you letters and Wednesdays at Crossroads at
Five Points
Honesty. It is 6 a.m. on
Thursday July 9, 2009, and I have been watching TV since 5 a.m. I watched stories about the world, economic
stories, stories about India There is an Indian reporter that has a
program called Storyboard. It is about
creative people, marketing people and it makes me want to travel. It is 6 a.m. and I have a letter due to a
client at 9 a.m..
A car next door starts. I
correct the language of my sentence. I
hear the sound of a plastic dumpster being rolled to the street for the garbage
pickup. 6 a.m. I need to be working out. I ate pieces of Swiss cheese for breakfast. I want to have a girlfriend, maybe be married. I want to wake up in bed together. I'm lonely. I want to be in love with a lover who has time to love.
Lisa and I live in the same house, her upstairs, me downstairs. She is my ex ex girlfriend and still my best friend. But best friends are not lovers. Lisa and I ate a late dinner at Racines last night. Split a single order. Did not have drinks, just water.
I call it the new Racines although it has
been in existence for several years. The
old Racines was
across from my old loft. I intend to go
to Nebraska this weekend. In fact I may look for a
train ticket for Friday night. I must
get this stuff done today. I may drive
the Jeep back. I think I want take off
the top and drive back to Nebraska, braving the rain and hail. It is time
for a road trip. I want to see home, my
mom and dad, my sister and her family, the land in Nebraska. And write and photograph the moments, the images.
Honesty. I want to be honest in
my writing. Marathons are satisfying
only after you're done. The training
beforehand is good and conditioning accomplished is wonderful but the last
half of a marathon race is painful.
Running a theater is like running a marathon, painful, yet ultimately
satisfying. One wonders if the constant
running of a marathon is a good thing.
Yet, if I am as brilliant a writer as I would hope to be, which may only
be in my own mind, I should be able to write myself out of this box. Create revenue through writing, whether that
writing is creative writing, fund raising or legal. Now that is a self-challenge.
Last night we had an event for Wednesday at Crossroads. There were two traveling poets: Dakota DarkHorse
who was a poet traveling with his mother across the country. Let me say that again. He was young poet, just graduated from
college, traveling with his mother across the country. Her name is Rose. His poetry was obsessed with 9/11 and George
Bush but that is understandable. What
was most amazing about him was his journey with his mother to
North
Carolina, Oklahoma, Texas, Arizona, Las Vegas, San Francisco, LA San Diego, Hollywood, New Mexico, Colorado and then headed towards home in New Haven Connecticut. Traveling.
What a journey. A journey that
will create memories that will last his entire life. And his mother will have different memories
but equally precious. I hope they have
captured last night in their memory for then after he and his mother Rose
return home, all of us shall live on in their molecular memory in New Haven, Connecticut
After the poetry, Dino Delano told the story of traveling to Burma Cambodia
and Thailand
through his pictures and his poet’s insight.
That story resides in my mind.
The images resonate in my mind. The
lives of a simple happy people shown to us if only we stop and see.
I tried some things last night. Improvisation. Getting people on the stage that otherwise
would not be on the stage. It is strange
how the stage scares people and it is strange how other people simply accept it
as if it is part of their lives.
Wednesday at Crossroads shall be a storytelling, interviews and a
poetry time and, I shall be the host, the interviewer and coming in two weeks
we shall have an interesting event, I'm not telling the secret of what is to
come but it will be interesting. Don't
miss it. An interviewee both
controversial and enchanting. Sexy, a little scary, plus a singer, a band. Some improvisation. A short film by a local filmmaker.
And always the philosophy of life. A few hints in the days to come. July 22 at
8pm.
Goodbye Michael
On ending day,
Find butterflies to ride to heaven.
Swooping, soaring, singing.
Escape weight of travail,
Broken cars and dreams,
Collected, dissected
Confetti flung to the winds,
Cottony seeds of troubles,
Gone.
Find butterflies to ride to heaven.
Float above thunderheads,
Cast lightning bolts for fun
Dance on a floor of storm clouds,
One more day to play,
In golden glow of afternoon rays.
Copyright 2009 Kurt Lewis
