Tuesday, May 29, 2012

"they said we were just people"

Here is the beginning of a story I am writing; you will have to follow along for X amount of time to know it all! Love, rabbie.

They said we were just people, but I knew better than that. We were magical creatures flying through space and time on our space ship knowing it was not really space and time at all, but an illusion. All that really means is that we were aware of the fact that our lives were just ours, in our own hands, and so we treated them so. This is not the way that other humans were acting, for it was in a time of great selfishness and corruption that we began that glorious journey. All we really wanted to do was be free, and all I wanted to do was to make my own reality reflect the dreams that had been dwelling in my head for years.
            These were dreams of self-sufficiency, dreams of understanding the Earth well enough to live right from it, hands dirty and calloused, and a true symbiosis of respect. But alas, I was reminded time and again of the industry and social standards present in those times, and though I wanted to wash them away with one swipe of a damp rag, I couldn’t make those things disappear. All I could do was keep on, the gypsies and I in our shambled caravan, and hang on tight to all we held dear. Many times, this was each other, and other times, this was our own fleeting feelings of stability.
            I suppose it would be a lie to say we knew what we were doing. In fact, everyday was a surprise, and often a great one at that. We kept being handed gifts that just poof! dropped out of mid-air. Some call this synchronicity, or the universe looking after us. I thought we were leaving a pretty good karmic trail behind us, and I felt like we were getting what we deserved ( and not getting what we didn’t ). Maybe “deserve” isn’t the right word, because who can decide that? I suppose only yourself or someone else, but I’m tired of other’s projections of us. Dirty hippies, wandering nomads, merry minstrels, furry freaks – whatever we were – it was all love and a good amount of struggle, but always unconditional love. I never knew 6 people so in love. We taught each other about one another and everyone taught me about myself. It was uncontrollable, continual growth. Sort of felt like some sick form of self-inflicted torture at times, but only because we had to be so open, so honest that it hurt, but this made for good kinship.
            So there we were whirling and swirling down the East coast into an unknown abyss of oblivion and it was all very exciting. Sitting up on the edge of the front seats in that 48 year old hound of a vehicle, all 35 feet thrusting forward down the highway, chug chug chug, silver and red, maxing out at 55. 55, that’s as fast as we ever got, but I swear there were times we were traveling the speed of light. The captain seat was a good one, too. Going through tunnels was like going through vortexes. And all of everything rocked back and forth like in a big boat at sea. Our house on wheels was as rickety as a rocket soaring through the sound barrier and it all stayed in place with bungee chords.
            The chords to our soundtrack were Bobby Dylan and old timey jams, paving the musical pathway to heaven. Woody said it, it’s a hard travelin’, I thought you knowed. There were times of seemingly eternal blobbing out, tired of it all. Had had enough, dammit! But alas, it was always love when it came pummeling back down to it. We had to keep our heads in the game or we’d lose it for sure. Lucy, our girl she powered on down and we rolled into Asheville and right into the corner of someone’s fence. It was 3 in the morning and we were all just zombies, exhausted from a day of being stranded in a grocery store parking lot for hours with a dead battery and then a 5 hour drive. It got confusing and we parked on the side of a random residential road and slept the night. Luckily the next morning we found a fellow bus-dwelling hobbit named Forest that pointed us in the right direction. Into town it was! Our first stop was Jack of the Wood, a leafy bar full of bluegrass music and solid local beer. I drank so much of that beer, it mighta been the best damn beers I ever had, or ever wanted. The music was damn good too, different musicians every night. We busked a lot around town, then spent a couple of bucks on some tea and coffee to warm up our fingers.  It was good money; it’s a busker’s haven down there.
            There was all sorts of characters on the street, including 73 cents. He wore a sequin shirt and carried around a broken guitar, askin’ for 73 cents. One day he got real close up to Marlin and Jed, right in their faces, and said “WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” And then paused dramatically, “I mean, wee.” We hit ‘em all by storm, and stumbled drunkenly around town at night hootin and hollerin and dancin honky tonk like.
            Everything was going all right in Asheville, we definitely found a groove in there real quick. I’d say it was something like getting caught in a tornado of beautiful minds and exchanging our knowledge left and right, warmed by a wood-burning stove of a house full of books and wonderful folks.  People are strange, and so are we. Works out well. God I couldn’t believe all the amazing books that filled that wood floored, rocking in a chair of a living room. Herbalism, sustainability, why capitalism sucks, foraging, DIY everything…all you really need? Almost, anyway.
            We must of been there a month, swirling in and out of random absurdities. Jed walks around with his banjo, I find myself smitten with a rat named Lily that I sometimes carry around in my shirt. In fact they all carried rats and dogs and other furry loves of theirs. There was one night we had the bus parked in a random abandoned gravel lot off the side of Patton Ave, a fairly busy and sort of industrial road, one of the main ones into town, and learned of Tommy Two Tone. He was a rather skinny homeless bum, riding around the bus on his bicycle for days, we couldn’t quite figure him out. Esmeralda opened the door with the lever and asked what his deal was and he biked away, mumbling something. Eventually he came around and swooped Marlin, Tuki and Bok into a sermon of his own. “It’s all one. There’s no problem. Nooo problem. We’re all friends. All friends.” He said as he entered the bus. We were all a little weary. I was afraid he might spontaneously combust or something and wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to be sitting so close to him, but really that’s all he said, “We’re all friends here. There’s no problem. All friends. Noo problem.” He said the lot was land he partially owned, and that we could stay there 3 more days. Sometimes creepiness compels you to move on, and so we did. Tired of being aimless and kicked out of everywhere, we decided to head for the mountains that had been teasing us in the distance, 360 degrees of glorious lust that I’d been eye balling all the time. And we immersed ourselves within them.
            Perched on our hippie paisley handmade cushions Esmeralda and I had sewn months before, I anxiously awaited trees, grass, and dirt. Fresh air. In fact I ached for it with my every being. Truth be told, I’m not much of a city person, I never was but didn’t know it until I moved from farm-lush and open south Jersey and moved to Philly for 4 years. No, the city is no place for me. It makes me feel trapped and I crave green and yearn for luscious open expanses.  It’s really the clusterfuck of chaos that just drives my head mad. Too many people, too many things, just too much stuff. It’s mayhem. And when I am in and amongst the great glorious flora and fauna of this Earth, I fell more whole, more centered, more focused, more content.
            It was especially entertaining when we were parked on an incline and we would put our drink down on the table and it graciously slid itself towards me. It was rather courteous of the table, I suppose, but sleeping was a bitch and always made my back sore when we weren’t flat.  We listened intently to the Doors and determined it sounded like robot space sound. Rather confusing, really. O! And a hint of the Beach Boys! “Every instrument has this weird, crunchy space tone.” Jed said. “Hello! Helloooo! Hi! How ya doin!? Hello!” and he waved. The ants were endless.

......to be continued.

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