Jesus. . . I'm so crazy tonight. I've been organizing my digital files. I have at least twenty of them, big ones, that I've been keeping since. . . when?. . . 2001? I think so. They have never been organized in any fashion. I have just downloaded files and worked on what I wanted to at the time. Now, I have no way to navigate them except as a stranger wandering into the jungle. For the past two days, I've been opening hard drives and trying to make sense out of them. I have taken all the files I can find in the "Lonesomeville" series and dragged them to two big 4TB drives. They are both full. I haven't seen some of these files for years. What was I thinking? They just go on and on and on. The hundreds of pounds of prints is nothing. I don't know if I have enough time left to look at all the images.
I went to my mother's house for the usual happy hour beer tonight, and she brought out a folder full of prints. One of them was an ink transfer I did before I did "Lonesomeville" of the little boy in boxing gloves. It is truly wonderful. I used to work at it every day. Where did I find the energy?
I was possessed.
Also, in perusing the hard drives, I found some of my music library that Apple stole from me. Fuck Apple Music. I've been listening to songs all night that I haven't heard for years. Many of them are wonderful. Just now, Billy Holliday croons. It is from a wonderful set that Q sent me many, many years ago. It is the sort of music that will keep you up at night drinking whiskey. That is what it has done tonight.
I am thrilled to have found so many files, but I am also daunted. I have many, many more drives to organize. I don't know if I can ever do it. I get lost looking through the images. Everything is a wonderful or terrible memory, but really mostly wonderful. I have an "Ili" drive that makes me sad but happy, too. I want to get on the Vespa again with her behind me and drive off into afternoon.
Selavy, eh?
We won't dally there. Forward. Or, as Kesey said, "Further." What's around the corner?
Oh. . . I forgot. We are living in the time of Corona.
I am glad your files are intact. A journey into Lonesomeville would be a lovely one. Some of my old ones went bad and whatever is in them is lost. Probably a good thing. I'm still buried in Nordic conjugations. Lots of fun that. Yeah, Apple music sucks. I have been collating my music files. I'll send you some of the obscure ones sometime.
ReplyDeleteAre you on the bus or off the bus?
I remember us saying that often when the factory siren blew.
I'm trying to drive the bus. I hope not to take us all over the cliff.
Delete
ReplyDeleteI wrote many a poem about "Further." I burned them.
I actually deleted permanently at least 1000 things I had writ. Or more.
Ed's box looks wonderful this morning. Everything tightened up - the glue - I made a little cabaret type box - 3D. This morning I added an empty packet of Wrigley gum. He's really a white sox fan tho. But I couldn't find anything in my pile Comiskey Park.
I'm just back from an adventure. Unexpected. I decided to go to a "drive to" dog walk today - a 10 mile conservation area that includes wide trails - narrow trails - meadows. Well 20 minutes in I found a lost dog. Beautiful English setter - but not typical looking. Spotted. He seemed out of breath - lost - upset but was just as sweet as pie.
I had my two dogs - already leashed. I was like shit - how am I going to get the information of the collar - blah blah blah. I looked to my left and saw a leash hanging on a tree - you know - things dog people do - lost hats gloves - dog toys - hang em in a tree.
Anyway- the dog had a chip - no name or number. I managed - with the three of them wrapping themselves all up - to call the 800 number to the chip company - took 20 minutes but a woman frantically finally called back - Louie had been lost for at least 24 hours.
I would have taken him home. He was a beautiful bird dog.
Now I must outdoor shower - get Ed's package ready to mail. The sun is shining. Gov. Charlie Baker unveiled the 4 Stage Reopening Plan yesterday. People seem happy. Mostly.
I grilled pineapple spears last night - they had been marinating in a honey/butter mixture. That delicious honey I bought on one of my rides. They were quite good - pineapple is so ambidextrous can be sweet and savory. I served them with BBQ spare ribs, bib lettuce salad and biscuits.
I don't feel like doing anything productive today. I rescued a dog - can that be enough? A day of Folly.
I've got some Nag Champa burning I love that shit.
EdP has majestic Poems. Mona was his Muse. This was what he wrote when I let him know of Tom's death:
Noodley Lute
La la la la.
La la la.
Mona hurried over the sidewalk with a box of noodles and two tomatoes, giggling as she remembered Ignatius' lute string endangering the eyes of passersby.
O, she'd plenty of garlic, the little witch. She'd grown it in the winter, spring, summer under a plush mulch of bone-blonde hay
And now it was fall. Morning glories spread silky-wide and unashamed as your mother's pussy, purple and pink and strangling any thick stem on their blinking path.
Ho! Now it was clear that the end was here. Come little sphere, the redness is not for ye now that winter's near. The lute unstrung and nothing to hear!
Ooooh. Oooh.
The rusty chains creaked and squeaked.
Mona slumped on the porch swing, exhausted, and strummed her pubes.
La la la la
La la la la.
*this is a song of hope
T's screen name was Lute. They loved each other.
See? You burned them. All I'm saying.
Delete