Jawbone, Kentucky

I sat on the front porch for over 3 hours, listening to music and writing about each song as it came on. An experiment I've tried before with mixes, but never had the patience to sit through a whole mix and write your justification for each song on the mix to the person you made it for. I listened to the music and the crickets and the sound of the neighbors sprinkler in the cold with tea and a sweatshirt on. It was one of the most theraputic things I've done in a long time. Writing and listening and just being outside while doing it was like meditation. It focused all of my senses on the moment. My left side and rights sides of my brain were simultaneously operating and communicating with each other, and I had a serene sense of being and connection with Rachel. I could imagine her listening to the mix and reading the letter and he reaction to certain phrases or songs.

Then I cam upstairs and saw my two room mates, each doing their own thing. One, laying on the recliner with a bowl of popcorn, headphones on and a movie on her laptop. The other, taking an on-line quiz for one of his Philosophy classes and we joke like old college buddies should. I felt inspired. I felt happy. I felt that even though America is in such a terrible mess, everything we've ever thought about American government will soon change, I'm not making enough money to get by,and neither is my mother or grandmother I know that this house will be a sanctuary from all of that. A place that like-minded people can live and write and read and learn together. Learning how to make the world a better place, as soon as we get around to changing it. Good music everywhere all the time. Laughter, jokes, spontenaeity, coffee, beer, sushi, card games, these things are what make it all worth it.

Dear Captain Zissou.

I am 11 and a half years old
and live in Jawbone, Kentucky.
A creek runs behind our house
where I live with my mother.
She met you once some years ago...
and I collect and catalog amphibians,
reptiles and insects.
I don't know what this one is called,
so I named it myself.

You are probably my one of,
if not the, favorite person I've ever studied.
I plan to be either,
"A, "an oceanographer...
"B, "an architect, "C, "a pilot.

Thank you very much for your good work.
Sincerely, Ned Plimpton,
Blue Star Cadet, Zissou Society.

P.S. Do you ever wish
you could breathe underwater?

I still wish
I could breathe underwater.

Me too, Ned.

- Fluorescent snapper!
- What?

Really? What's that?

- A good sign. The last time
we saw that big shitkicker, he -

Somethin' popped up there,
didn't it?

I heard a pin snap loose
in the rotator mechanism.

This is gonna hurt.

Ned!

Ned!

- Ned!
- Hey, Stevesy.

Are you okay?

I think I'm okay.

What happened?
Did we hit something?

Most likely not.

I think maybe
the pushrod failed.

I'm sorry, Ned. I should've scrapped
this chopper years ago.

You know, maybe
I should've autorotated...

and performed a high bank
through our descent.

We might've crashed
a little softer.

Probably wouldn't have made
any difference though.

Oh.

The Roanoke Millionaire's Club

I've found my new favorite spot to sit. I'm on the top floor of our house, sitting in a camping chair, overlooking our neighbor's front lawn, trees, rooftops and Avenham Ave. SW. I watch cars go by, people riding bikes, running, walking, being happy healthy suburbanites. It's 10 in the morning. I have a cup of coffee and headphones on, listening to a new band called the Uglysuit. The tree in the yard is turning different colors. Today is the second day of autumn.

I had such a great time last night. I got home from work, ate my two Jr. Bacon Cheesburgers from Wendy's and a bowl of oatmeal while watching Arrested Development, went upstairs, cleaned my bathroom, then listened to and downloaded music all evening. Reid called and I suggested we go somewhere downtown for a beer. We walked from Reid's apartment down to Blues BBQ Co. one of two bars open on Monday nights. I guess it reminded me why I loved hanging out with my friends. I know that sounds awkward. But, it felt more natural than it has before. It felt like, of course we're all hanging out, this is our group of friends. Before it seemed forced like I didn't fit in or I hadn't found my place. We laughed, made plans, made fun of each other. Made old jokes, new jokes and slowly sipped our beers with no pressure to get drunk, afterall, it was a Monday night. We even saw the local news crew doing a report on the City Market building which was recently shut down because of a rat infestation.

We decided to go to Texas Tavern, a hamburger/chili stand and Roanoke institution fro drunks and poor people alike since 1930. I'll admit, I've only been there twice, last night being the second of the two. Jenny and I ordered Sprites, I ordered a cheesburger (my third of the day) and Jenny got a "chili with" (meaning with onions) and a "cheesy western with" meaning with every condiment they have.

The people working there are always characters. They'd have to be to work at an all-night burger stand. Vern served us with a smile. I asked how long he'd been working there. I expected something like 18 years, but I got a modest answer of 6 weeks. There's an old-fashioned cigarette machine, the kind they stopped making after angry mothers wanted to make it more difficult for their kids to get cigarettes. The price list mounted on the wall doesn't seem to have changed in 20 or so years. $1.40 for a hamburger. $1.35 for a soda (free refills of course). We joked with Vern about hair (I smoothed over mine when he mentioned the comb-over), crocs ("Those are them shoes with the holes in 'em. I always thought we bought shoes to put holes in 'em ourselves"). And Brett, accustomed to the abuse, smiled and laughed.

It was one of those nights that suspended time. It's frightening to think about the trouble our country is in. Not just our country, but the people we know and love that live in it. My mom might have to move out of her house because she can't find enough work. My grandmother might have to move into a smaller assisted living condo because her house sat on the market for a year depreciating in value as weary buyers saved their money, then the entire mortgage infrastructure collapsed this summer and now there's a FOR RENT sign on her front lawn. I told them this and we all laughed that we should move in there together. The rent can't be as much as their combined monthly cost of living. I don't think they wanted to consider such an idea as seriously as they did.

Yes, our economy is in the worst shape it has been in since the great depression. Yes, jobs are scarce and don't pay enough to pay for the gas to get there. Yes, our country is one of the poorest countries in the world due to our overwhelming amount of debt, little to no GNP and a war that's costing more per week than some country's entire annual budget. Yes, our people care more about celebrity gossip than learning about how the American government actually workds (most rely on their 8th grade civics class). And yes, most concerned voters are more concerned about abortion rights, gay marriage, gun control and religious affiliation to care about the future of the US in the ever-changing global economy. But hey, as long as we keep people from being happy and can buy shotguns at Wal-Mart when we turn 18 and make sure there aren't any Muslims lurking in our backyards waiting to plant bombs in our septic tanks, everything is AOK.

Then there are times like last night. The economy didn't matter, politics didn't matter, nothing mattered except the moment. A night downtown with friends, drinking Budweiser and eating cheap cheesburgers with Vern. And moments like this. The cool morning breeze drifts through the window, monarch butterflies flap past on their way south. Music in my headphones drowning out everything but the sound of new music. If my American History class in 11th grade tells me anything, its that America will bounce back. We've been through a civil war, we've been through total economic anihilation, we survived 8 years of the worst presidenting ever, but we can still go see a movie, drink a gallon of coke and eat a bucket of popcorn for 20 bucks. I guess it's not all too bad in America.