A Reticents Dream...

To get from A to B requires an open mind, for one can travel no longer in the lonely darkness of a closed mind.

his pruned old hands went grudgingly back to the clackity-clack'n of the dusty keyboard; mad - even more so than before - because now the bitter clanks of dishes falling to rest, to dry, in the dish rack, in a routine and organized, but forceful manner, ironically echoed in his own ears. His intenion was indeed to disturb the peace of all others around him...all the offenders. Slobs.

He continued to write with fervor and slammed home the keys with great relief.

Pending all ingredients are in their perfect state there is something really profound that reaches deep inside me, probably encroaching on something from my past; from my earliest history.

The aformentioned ingredients, revealed as light, temperature, music, speed, and mental attunement, have to be each in their own perfect balance, as well as being in perfect harmony with one another. The light must be on its way to slipping below the horizon leaving the transitional dusk to calm my senses. Temperature and wind may be considered to go hand-in-hand as a cold winter wind would ruin the whole enchanted moment. Ideally, and varying by geographic location, the wind must be that of a sweet and sharp autumn day...at dusk. Too much wind would also put an end to such a rarity in occasions. The wind has to be just so as to stir up the tasty smells hidden within the forests bosum
.

The music and speed portions of the overall enchantment....... are where the car comes into play. I am positive most can relate to driving down predetermined routes, swinging left and right; and bubbling up and down, all while a good melody touches the olfactory senses, I am sure these people can relate to my story. There is no more a pleasing time for listening to the unpredictable sounds of jazz then after the sun has hidden itself from view, having left us for the night and all it has to offer, only to spread new light upon our distant neighbours. Perhaps the latter, the auumption that the sun has set but has risen to bath other lands, perhaps this has some hidden comfort. Prove to me the sun will rise again and I shall declare you King. It comes down to hope. Back to the jazz. Jazz is at its best from dusk on and if you find yourself driving as the dusk becomes night and the subsequent feeling of romance rises like the night moon you will understand at least a little more about this enigmatic world.

I can picture myself beboping around corners. CUT TO: still shot of car zipping past, disturbing the deathbeds of many withered leaves; sending them on a weightless flight in an unpredictable and turbulent ride. Just as with the sound of the speeding car, the sound of Hancock also fades into the distance, following the trail of upheaved leaves, adn would you believe, if you were to be afforded such a beautiful shot, the chaotic sounds of Hancock ( or any great conveyor of jazz ) seem to mimic the movements of the incalculable flight of the come-to-life leaves. If you can catch that moment, even without seeing it, but being aware of it, then you have caught a high cresting wave of a moment balanced high above its giant sea.

Even I, having very few affairs in daily life, am too busy thinking about the days going-ons to be aware of the external. I take my being in this place, this actual geographic location, too lightly and let things pass me by all too often.

Taking a walk is supposed to clear the mind and revitalise the self. My walks have purpose; transporting me to and from the place that occupies my mind on those same walks. I am left no room to be externally aware and open up to observation, instead trying to unravel the days new mess in my mind planted (and already well rooted) by a philosophy professor. Introverted.

I cannot tell you the streets I pass on the way. Everyday I walk the same unnoticed route. There is nothing new to discover, nothing to tweak my senses, because my senses are directed inward or otherwise completely ignored and overlooked. Too much to ponder to notice and appreciate whole-heartedly the couple getting high by the baseball diamond or the two city dwelling squirrels giving chase from tree to tree; yard to yard.

It took two inciting sources to totally inspire me for a second go at 'er. 

With the help of one unnamed screenwriter and a collective group of Seattle musicians I pay my bill and proceed, as always, with little to no confidence.  Perhaps I will save the update of my life for a later session and focus on the now. Then again, perhaps this is the update of my life. 

Right now the house lights are back up, the men in black are scurrying to and fro, labouring with heavy and awkwardly shaped speakers and many metres of cleverly placed cable while the deities of rock do their thing - I can only excitedly imagine it involves more of the same:  more rockin' in the free world.  The stage is being dismantled and packed away for the next stop - Kitchener I think...not important - and people are abuzz, talking this and that about a very appreciative and welcome, very, very, welcome, Pearl Jam. 

Back then the house lights dramatically dimmed and the stage was left to everyones immediate attention.  Slightly smokey and draped in pale violet light; you might say there was almost a purple haze mystically foreshadowing things to come.  The small crowd - relatively speaking - of a few thousand proud Thunder Bayers, Canadians, erupted like Mount Vesuvious and, in small part due to the relatively smaller size of the gardens, resounded as well and as loud, with whistles, and cheers, as they did, as we did This Night, This Whole Night! 

The heat was there.  Not unbearable, but annoying and, eventually, sticky.  Eddie was ablaze.  Whatever was in him was evaporating out of him at an increasing rate.  He tossed his head around in circles - sometimes thrashing it once or twice - freeing streams of sweat, lines of sweat, to cut through the smokey light.  It was no less then that of a boxer being dealt a final and devastating shot to the temple, sending salty secretions through the air, and the stunned contender to his horizontal destiny.