Mother do you think they’ll drop the bomb

December 20th, 2009
No Stilleto Singer

No Stilleto Singer



. . . Is it just a waste of time?

For those of you walking in cities now, 1 am, lights up, lights out, you may never know the mindfullness gained from driving home on a two-lane country road at night. In the dark.

Sanctuary of Classic Rock, choir singing STP, “Interstate Love Song”.

A friend of mine knows. He knows enough to send me one C.D.-Grateful Dead, American Beauty.  He knows two lane highways.  South Dakota and Mississippi have more in common than one might think, and dark two-lane “thinking time” roads are one commonality.

Been down, so low, so low.  Listening to American Beauty now at 1 am, having come from a bar where the singer took off her stilettos and sang so true she shook her hair out of its perfection.   She singled me out twice, came to me in person to sing with her on the mic.  Only one in the bar she graced so.

Maybe she knew, knew I needed it.  Knew

Drinking mulled wine made out of the lingering bits of port left from above friend’s gift of several years past.  Appropriate cause that friend is a thinker, too.

What does one think about, driving down two lane roads, Southern Highways?

All alone, street lights gone.

What does one think about–one thinks about truth in pulp fiction.  No truer lines spoken than from “Along comes Polly”–”silent” dad who exhorts:

It’s not about what happened in the past, or what you think might happen in the future. It’s about the ride, for Christ’s sake. There is no point in going through all this crap, if your are not going to enjoy the ride. And you know what… when you least expect something great might come along. Something better then you even planned for.

Grateful Dead in the mail.  Thanks, man.

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    About Me

    Professional Gastroenterology Fellow

    Amateur Martha Stewart/Bob Villa/Julia Child/Collette Peters