uncollected thoughts

Greetings from a muggy Sunday night in Atlanta. I just logged onto Blogger to see if I could remember my password, remember how to post. I feel like I've been in a creative drought lately. I'm ready to come out of it. Is that something one can do simply by intending it? Well, I'm here, and I'm trying.

I'm not here to write about anything in particular, just bits and pieces floating through my brain. Welcome to the blotter.

(1) I went to a funeral on Saturday for a young man I'd never met. Alex was the 22-year-old son of a woman I know through my contradance community. Alex's mother, Linda, is a petite Southern firecracker of a woman. Until Saturday, I don't think I had ever not seen her smiling. But the funeral was crushing. After a long struggle with addiction, Alex died of a drug overdose. I gather that his death was quite unexpected. He'd been in and out of recovery programs; I suppose he seemed to be making progress. And then he was gone. Linda sobbed and sobbed on Saturday. I didn't think I'd cry at the funeral, but I did, just because I hated to see Linda so sad. A mother should never have to bury a son.

(2) In a strange way, I feel oddly excited about the increase in the cost of gas. Yes, that sounds kind of sick. But being a good Socialist-hearted American, I find it interesting that we are finally starting to encounter some checks in our extravagant waste of fossil fuels. Wendell Berry wrote a splendid article in the May issue of Harper's that gets right to the issue, noting the psychological shifts that are accompanying the end of cheap oil:

…That human limitlessness is a fantasy means, obviously, that its life expectancy is limited. There is now a growing perception, and not just among a few experts, that we are entering a time of inescapable limits. We are not likely to be granted another world to plunder in compensation for our pillage of this one. Nor are we likely to believe much longer in our ability to outsmart, by means of science and technology, our economic stupidity. The hope that we can cure the ills of industrialism by the homeopathy of more technology seems at last to be losing status. We are, in short, coming under pressure to understand ourselves as limited creatures in a limited world.

I wonder sometimes what it would be like for American filling stations to sell gas at $10/gallon, like they already do in some parts of Europe. If we couldn't drive everywhere, would not our lives become significantly simpler, smaller and quieter? Yes, $10/gallon gas would necessitate some major life changes and some major inconveniences for most working Americans. But I think many of those shifts would be incredibly healthy for us in the long run.

(3) I've been working way too much lately. The financial freedom is nice. The disconnect I feel from my artistic life is not so great. I don't like who I become when I work too much. I become this machine, a hyper-productive, stressed, anxious, furious footsoldier. I continue to seek balance in this area. I miss taking photos a lot.

(4) I'm continuing to enjoy getting to know a couple of women neighbors in my apartment building. We went to Birdi's a couple of weeks ago and I had a "faketini" called the Christini Milkshake. $8.75 for vanilla vodka, white creme de cacao, Kahlua, and cream. I don't really care for elaborate drinks, but this thing was seriously delicious. I've been thinking about that drink for two weeks now. I'll try to steer the group back there and take photos next time.

(5) My older brother is spending the summer in Oregon and I miss him.

(6) I'm getting my hair cut on Tuesday and I can't wait. I haven't had it cut since March and I'm looking especially pitiful. I'm going back to the woman who did this to me — but this time we're going to have a Come To Jesus conversation before she picks up the scissors.

Thanks for reading this far. It's good to be back. Hopefully it won't be three months before I post here again.