A Mind, Lively and at Ease

Sorry for all the quotes and no action from my sphere. I’m taking some summer courses that are kicking my butt. PLUS tomorrow begins Athfest, so I’ll be dancing, singing, and jamming to some of my favorite local musicians with hundreds of people. Wooo boy, I remember when I first saw the Whigs at Athfest when I was in high school. Come to think of it, that was the first time I stepped into 40 Watt. So long ago!

Overall, I think the first concert I saw made a considerable impression on my childhood. Widespread Panic rolled into town when I was about five or six years old. My parents, for some ludicrous reason, took us to the show. We met my uncle, who was on duty for the event maintaining the crowd. He grunted, adjusting his belt. They all talked about the concert—my uncle mentioning that the large event created so much confusion that they couldn’t really enforce any laws. He had to work, so we began to leave the little side-street where he was stationed. As we turned the corner, it hit all at once. When I squinted my eyes a little, the street seemed filled with a confetti of clothes, skin, and faces. Everyone was tall, mostly looking forward to wherever they loped. The world seem to both move with me and over me. The others moved so quickly, gliding as if on conveyor belts. 

Our lungs, practically gills due to the humid air of the South, sucked in a sweet, almost spicy scent. Men and women with dreadlocks, some wearing tie-dye and ripped jeans or cargos, smoked pipes under canopies. My father reached down, pulling me up onto his shoulders. I played with his thick glasses, smacking his nose a couple of times for good measure.

We walked closer to the back of t-shirts and I could see the stage. Next to me, a woman sat on a man’s shoulders. The man, between her legs, shouted, “You’ve got the best seat in the house!”

I can’t remember much else, but it makes me happy just to have experienced it all.

Sweet, cool rain

a cleansing, a purifying,

slowly, it tranquilizes:

nature’s music.

Old man on the porch, 

wooden rocking chair, tin roof,

we feel community

in the miraculous water washing

the world. Does he

also see the beauty?

Do we seem kindred in 

thoughts, or is he simply

biding his time as the hand ticks

past, while the sky pours?

Behold the sun, feeding the 

sprouting honeydew melon energy

and instantaneously life flourishes.

Bathing in rays, 

steam rises from the shiny blue

metal hood of a car

while it begins to preheat

back to baking. 

Yet, fresh breezes 

now soften the

pressing, warm sun on my neck.

     Cigarettes and shiny new gadgets remind me of my brother. The staunch, lingering smell of stale tobacco immediately forces a picture of knowledge and red hair. He holds his cigarette like a professor, making outward movements toward you as if his teachings could emanate from the smoke through your nose to your intoxicated brain.

     I used to be afraid of him. That much is true. He is a lot older now, leading a successful life in the surpassing circuitry L.A. makes, jumping with energy and electricity around the world’s motherboard. He also reminds me a little of the Matrix—the essence of him is teeming with green ones and zeros collected with red and black wires.

     He lost his passport in Seoul. He can tell you about how great Medellin is, and that Qatar is just plain strange. Suitably, he amasses a great amount of social networking. As the best example, Muse lives down the street from him. One visit, being the silly little girl I was, I asked whether he could get their autographs. He replied that it would be weird for a friend to ask them, almost socially improper. Nevertheless, I was disappointed.

     When I was about seven or eight, in one of those peaks of utter brattyness—another being high school—I drilled holes in the tires of his Jeep Wrangler after being tickled just way too much. The escaping sigh of air reflected his respect for me.

     Never again will I forget the expense of four brand new pieces of rubber.

     Over the years, I cannot say that we had the best brother-sister relationship. Recently though, I have happily retained my status as baby sister. I feel almost automatically settled with content. Though we’ll never forget how I retaliated with a drill bit after he tried to tickle me into cleaning my room, it has become only a very funny story in a series of memories.