50, 000 miles from home

listening: 'Crazy English Summer', Outrospective, Faithless
reading: Can't Find My Way Home: The Great American Stoned Age 1945-2000 by Martin Torgoff

I love the way Sister Bliss sings that line in Crazy English Summer--"...fifty THOU-sand miles from home..."

Feels like that sometimes. In actuality, it's about 60 miles from home but in all honesty, I feel 500, 000 miles away from where I started. Yes, it has been a long time since I posted but I'm not going to get into the how and why and where and when. Just begin again. Begin to get out what's in, that's been in.

I was home this weekend (Keene) for Memorial Day. My parents road is so bright and green, it hurts to look. Funny how, after a winter like we had, bitter cold, winds like you wouldn't believe and more snow than we've had in a long time, that the grass remembers how to grow, the trees remember how to wear their leaves. The snow goes away. I was encompassed by an enormous amount of hope as I steered Natascha up their road, thrilling at the bumps and the greenery. Everything starts over. Everything remembers how to live, no matter how much cold and shit has been thrown down on it.

Home was fun. Always something new that is really old, always laughing until you want to throw up and burst into space, always thoughtful, serious conversations that turn into goodnatured shouting matches. Struck me this weekend how old we are getting. Sitting in Brattleboro on the river, eating lunch and drinking beer in the middle of the day, arguing about mercury levels in fish. Much different from the darling threesome we once were, but completely, entirely, unmovingly, unchangingly the exact same.

Currently reading Can't Find my Way Home, which has got me hooked. Strongly, strongly recommend. Reading about the 60's gives me an overwhelming feeling of "Awww...I missed it." The modern Renaissance. The next evolutionary leap. A shift in thinking and doing. It makes me homesick and sad to think that innocence is gone--an innocence I want. So many important things were said and made and done and sung and painted and written. It's been an insane read so far. It's feeding my brain. I can't seem to put the bloody thing down. It's almost like my brain is starving, tired of brainless television shows. On a sidenote though, Six Feet Under starts this week--huzzah! And it's the last season?! What?! Didn't know that. Balls.

The sun is shining into my living room and every animal is asleep. Baby kitty is on the couch, Max is on the coffee table and Penny is sleeping in her crate, dead to the world.

Will write more when I can think in full sentences.