Wednesday, June 11, 2014

Betwixt or Between

I felt like a hammer had hit me in the head.  The incredibly loud PA, the singers screaming so loud their veins were popping out of their necks, the drum beats that blistered the bottom of my feet.  All of my favorite songs.  As soon as the music started, I was in a different world.

Man, I had to pee.  I did my business and walked straight out into the night, along Glenwood and over Moreland.  It was one in the morning.  I needed air.  I wasn't used to going to shows until the middle of the night.  I didn't help that I had put down nearly a twelve pack before even going.  But, wow, what a show.  My favorite local band from a decade and a half ago.  And, they sounded incredible.  I felt shell shocked.  And weirdly melancholy.  So much change.  The recent death, that shouldn't effect me because I didn't know him personally.  Everything is different.  Gone. 

I got up the next morning and my mood deepened.  I felt nostalgic, exhilarated and sad all at the same time.  I wanted to go again, see them again, who knew when I would ever get another opportunity.  Oddly, I wasn't sure if I could handle the physical exertion. 

My dog, the love of my life, has been sick. I took her to the vet and they said she had some seasonal allergies.  I looked up some remedies on the internet while I nursed my head with coffee and came across an article about the most toxic plants for dogs.  Most were in my backyard and would only require ingestion of a leaf or two to cause paralysis.   

There was no question.  Those plants had to go.  It was unequivocal.  I was almost angry at them.  She could have died.  But as Alec hacked at the old growth azaleas and oak hydrangeas that were in the backyard when we bought the place, I felt horrible.  I always thought they were beautiful, and they were poisoning my dog.  We cut them off at the base.  As I dug up all the things I had planted in the backyard, the things that I loved, I felt my throat closing and choking. 

I slept in a feverish sleep, dreaming of Lola falling into a deep ocean off of a boat.  I stared into the water, waiting for her to surface.  She didn't.  I panicked and woke up clutching my throat.  I had another dream of holding someone's baby during a car crash.  I didn't really care about the baby, but was doing my civil duty to try to save it.  I woke up clutching Lola in our bed while she tried to scuttle away, sleepy. 

I felt odd in my EDS class Monday morning.  It was back to my normal school world, so different from the world I had been in for days.  I guess my old world.

I am not sure which, if any, is my true world. 

Wednesday, June 4, 2014


In the early 90s I was really into music.  Actually, before the early nineties.  In the 80s, at the Metroplex.  By the time I was in college, music in Atlanta was pretty awesome.  I remember going to Homage and seeing Smoke all lined up on the stage, sitting down, facing the audience with their instruments, looking totally impressive.  Later, when I had dropped out of college, I worked in Cabbagetown for a little while.  I was a baker, the only job I have ever fully enjoyed.  I was completely dedicated to my work, but would go next door sometimes to the musicians' practice spaces, that now host lofts and restaurants, and smoke pot, but only really fast, because I had ideas about what I wanted to do in the bakery.  The Gold Sparkle Band was awesome for stuff like that.  I would work late, instead of early, because I am not an early riser, unlike most bakers.  It would get dark and I would fiddle with pie crusts and recipes, alone in the bakery, happy with my day, happy that I could say when someone asked me, "What did you do for work today?",  that I could say that I baked four apple pies, made twelve scones and a layer cake.  But in the night, the sun would set on the stacks of the old mill and I could sometimes hear Smoke tuning up.  I didn't have to go outside, their music permeated the neighborhood.
And I would bake while they played.