off balance in equilibrium

I did a somersault today for the first time in entirely too long. When’s the last time you tried to do a handstand and lost all control, falling over onto your back just to lie still peering at the great blue firmament that lights your every day, with a smile that hints a deeper knowledge and full of the moment that you realize you’ve taken It all for granted, living as a plant does??? Ask yourself...then, enter the grassy bit, your hands swing up then, in a movement, take your whole body upside down; hands pressing the green blades that creep between your fingers, feet twirl to the sky…over you go…and now you know…again.
Do you recall when safety meant that the lid on the pickle jar didn’t pop up? Do you remember how fantastic and entertaining it was when it did, and how incredibly simple the plan was? No colors to symbolize your emotions, no scale to play you, just a touch of the tips and you knew they were crisp.
I often look at a child in their innocence and gape at the familiar freedom I once lived by; when food was just a nuisance that broke the bonding time with friends, when the crepuscular street could only be felt beneath your feet, yet you played on in hopes that your parents had forgot about you and the darkness that was; a darkness that killed the day, but bore the anecdote of your youth. In that era, questions were welcomed and lack of knowledge was cute; PBn’J with a cold mountain dew, to see that girl and how butterflies flew, to kick the ball over all their heads and win the game…life lived in you.
Remember slip-n-slide, seek and hide, the bike you felt so proud to ride? Was it comic books and baseball cards, Boy Scout cooks and racing cars? Did you ride the bus or walk to school? Did you eat your lunch, hot or cooled? Save a place for a friend in line, hear the bell, clutch the time, “come on, come on…the turn is mine!”
“Don’t take candy from a stranger” was the only imminent danger. Life was blessed when Skeletor was the evil-doer, and their always rested prudence with Papa Smurf and students. Weekend camping trip on the lake, a pile of leaves a playground when raked, the cookies that your mama baked and eating pancakes in your favorite pjs.
Make a batter and eat ‘em up, make it on a Wednesday morn, share it with those in your home. Read a book to your child, watch the look, embrace the smile. Sit yourself down on the porch or the backyard, listen to an album and feel the story’s charm. Do nothing else nor call it lazy, it’s the most efficient thing you can do…for your spirit…or had you forgot the matterless (sic) that matters. Let your child play with his friends, if you’ve none, take marking pens and color a sheet, scribble something neat…shit, walk in the street with your bare feet.

Just the Boss

Philips Arena, 2 rows back off the floor, center...He simply walked on stage as I did when cast as the inspector of that sherlock-like play in the 4th grade...he had no pipe.

"I guess I just need you to be quiet so I can perform my best for you...thank you." There might've been 7000 that shared the solo acoustic set but it seemed so much more intimate than that. He moved with purpose from piano, to organ, to the hallmark rustic guitar that bellowed the sounds of "Devils and Dust", "The Rising", and an unpreviewed version of "Dancing in the Dark" which was just the narration of the state of our spirits in that very moment. All the time he danced in between instruments like the university lothario juggling women with the most sincere devotion to each within its moment, he donned an harmonica...reed-whistling complexities that matched the harmony dispelled from his fingers; inhaling the enigmatic energy we emanated and exhaling the contrition of all the painful, unknowing years; expiring the air with the painful expression written between the lines of a middle aged musician still in control, still in production, still in love with everything it represents. This is how I saw The Boss.

It was really so much more than a concert that had people innebriated and shouting their animated affinity for a performer; rather an operatic mood that held people in their seats, unfettered and in awe. Apart from the 2 blonde barbies in front of me that seemed to find their cant more interesting than the bond between a man and his device, the entire audience had their focus upon one character in his own element. Being a part of it made my Saturday night, thanks Lease.

Today I'll bear the heat characteristic of Atlanta and head to the outdoor ampitheatre that hosts John Mellencamp and John Fogerty. This too, I'm sure will provide me with memories of a summer I spent in Atlanta while growing up...yep, still just growin' up.

They let Lisa go blind...

I've been back in the U.S. for a little over 2 months now and have been trying to engage myself more personally with expressive arts. Here's a motley of the current indulgence.


Music: I've been listening to Belle & Sebastian for the last 3 months and never seem to tire myself of their unique blend of alt. rock to melodic expression of suffering which are both imbued with pithy, witty lyrics that leave you craving more--"Lazy Line Painter Jane", "A Century of Fakers", & "Modern Rock Song" of the double disc album "Push Bar to Open Old Wounds" are some favorites. Ween has also managed to find itself ringing in my headphones leaving me without any desire to whisk it away; specifically "Where I'm At" & "Flutes of the Chi" of the "White Pepper" album. Finally, Jack Johnson's new album "In Between Dreams" is also a big hit with me. Of course the radio popular "Good People" is a fave, but also "Better Together", "Breakdown" and "Crying Shame" show that Jack hasn't lost the capacity to blend surfer splendor with assonating lyrics accompanied by accoustical elements. If you don't know who he is, shame on you!


Movies: Sacrificing my current indisposition to commercial cinema, I went to "Wedding Crashers" and found it humurous on so many levels. Surprisingly, every aspect of it was satisfying...even the moments where hollywood usually fails (ie. cheesy intimate/romantic moments) it came thru with a twist that usually stirred up some comic relief. Vince Vaughn is fantastically funny, and Will Farrel (aka. Chazz) couldn't have been better cameo. Apart from the mainstream movie, I enjoyed the freshness and unpredictable twists of "Memories of Murder" by Bong Joon-Ho (Kr; won best new film director San Sebastian Film Festival) and JSA (Joint Security Area) by another Korean director, Park Chan Wook who recently did the international hit "Oldboy". JSA tells a tale of the brotherhood discovered between a soldier from the south, who incorporates a fellow soldier, and 2 from the north. The camera manipulation of time and outbursts of emotion make this movie an incredible work that lends a bit to the historical dilemma you should know more about.


Literature: Currently trying to finish "Atlas Shrugged" by Ayn Rand, which in no way is difficult other than making time to open the novel. This book is so relevant to what is happening today that if you are in need of a prodigious book that could spark a revolution you must pick this up and gorge yourself with the profundity of character development and the utter integrity of the idealogy that Rand presents...thoroughly enjoyable and I still have the terminating 150 pages. Since I've been back, I've read "The Prince" (finally) by Machivelli and "The Four Agreements" by Don Miguel Ruiz. The upcoming hopefuls are "100 anos de soledad" or "100 Years of Solitude" that will be read in Spanish...though I speak/read Spanish, this is a daunting task because it's some 500 pages and well...it's a different language! If not this, then "The Sound and the Fury" by Faulkner, "Foucault's Pendulum" by Umberto Eco or "The Penguin History of the USA" are all waiting in the wing.

** I encourage you to expose yourself to any of these highlighted items and respond with your own sentiments after having experienced it, and I welcome discord and castigation.
M

Atlanta

To the blackboard again. There was really no need to return to the states to amass more money but my sister begged over breakfast, though she didn't really need to say much more than "Atlanta has a great music scene (many free venues) in the summer and it seems you're never here in the summer" for me to abandon the original plan to move through South East Asia.

I informed most of those who've since fallen out of my life; funny how quickly that happens and the indifference with which we take it, you know...old high school friends with whom you no longer seem to find many commonalities, college buds who've gone the 'stable life' route. No hard feelings if you're one of those that seem to have fallen by the wayside but life is all about changes and it'd be silly, fraudulent, and insulting to deny the fact that certain people just don't interest me anymore.

With a very brief recap, I started my 'real world' (aka post college) journey to South America as 2002 sprung upon us. This of course was right after 9/11 and more regionally significant, the default of an international loan by the Argentine govt. Everyone was pissing their pants with warm fear, not knowing what to do or where to hide...I chose to visit our southern neighbor that share the name America (yes it's a continent, not a country U.S. citizens). While everyone warned me of the imminent danger involved in entering a third world country on the verge of anarchy, I found some of the most pristine places on earth, made the most memorable moments in my life, and progressed personally on a level that is still insurmountable in scope. 15 months of a fantastic voyage found me back in the states to hoard some cash and set off upon the road again...this first travel opened my eyes to the point I was crying to get away from the suffocating ethnocentricity this country inculcates. The "america" example above is the most blatant testament to this factuality--I mean come on, we as a country claim an entire continent and no one even notices exept those other Americans (e.g. Central, Southern) and forget about that 'too docile' neighbor above us, Canada...they don't want anything to do with "America" because they know the rest of the world has excepted our misrepresentation)-not to mention the all too rampant geographical incompetence and misstatements like uh...I don't know, "World Series" that involves only the U.S..

I started looking for work in the Atlanta area because that's where my older sis lives and came across something via internet, "teach English in Korea". I thought, 'what the hell' and sent a resume that had a few facts in between the lines. 3 days later, I got a call from Tino and just 10 later I was introduced to the East by a driver of a van holding the movie-typical placard that said, "Insert Real Name". We were off on a 45 minute journey with no talking and some all too emotive South Korean music on the radio.The year in South Korea was more than I could ever put down on paper, though I might attempt that daunting and introspective task at a later date, but let's just say that when people ask me, "how the hell did you teach them English when you don't know Korean?" I didn't have much of an 'oh it was easy' sort of answer...it was harder than Mike at a 10 year old talent show, at first.

I returned with my nest egg of loot, ready to spend and ready to see the more mysterious part of Asia, as I didn't get much traveling in while in Korea. I agreed to chill in Atl with my sister for the summer, but being November of 2004, I didn't want to spend the winter in the states...I headed back to Argentina to visit some old friends that helped to transend me. Man had since become fathers, husbands/wives, and other devoting figures of life that completely changed my perceptions of them. All in all, it opened my eyes again but in the sense that life and your memories are constantly changing; and the possibility, that our perception and those same memories we so value might be nothing but pure illusion, become more of a reality to me.

Returning to the states yielded emotions that were not yet experienced. I didn't want to stay there any longer, but I didn't really want to leave either. A few intimate experiences with several lovely Argentines left me leaving in good spirits. There's much to say about ATL and I hope that I might experience it enough to be able to tell it with erudition. I've only allowed myself the time to go to Music Midtown in June which featured Lou Reed, a favorite of mine, The White Stripes, an incredibly alive live duo, Chuck D, Def Leppard, and a blowout performance by Kid Rock. I missed Aimee Mann in a Botanical Garden, shame on my poorly selective ass. There will be some great musicians make it through this city and I hope to incorporate myself amidst the innebriated masses to show my support for live music and the pain-cloyed musicians that produce it. July is rushing past, with August banging on the door and the moments of summer are rushing for'd. Now that I've caught everyone up, or those that care, I can move on to more memorable writing and events that will carry me through this sojourn and onto the next drifting.

M