last glass...dusty buckets...parched e-lips...sponge...drip...drop

2003-02-16 - 6:56 p.m.: miracle grow

the drums were the best of them all.

marched with my community against my government yesterday. it was windy, and my posterboard wanted to be a sail. it wanted to pull me up and over the river of people in the street. i wouldn't budge. it tore with a frustrated sigh.

i loved this march. i felt like a person instead of a player. i still couldn't yell, though. i don't know why. my voice resists volume. maybe i'm just afraid of drowning-out my own perceptions. i couldn't stop looking around at all the different faces and listening to all the different hollers. people were beating on buckets and drums, and there were times at which the rhythm was so perfect that i wanted to drop everything and start dancing like a primordial fire-worshiper. but i didn't. i should have. maybe i would have started something. maybe other people would start dancing, too... eventually infecting the entire crowd.

1,500 people in hats and mittens tribal-dancing in the street.

that would have been amazing.

when we got to the capitol i had to turn right around and walk 3 miles home to meet my brothers, so i missed the speeches. i took them to the movies where we saw ben affleck kick bad-guy-ass with only his cane, a costume and 4.5 killer senses. i love those kids. they keep me from being cynical. i can't be...not when i can see what's coming up next.

today is a cloud. it is soft and insubstantial and will never touch the ground. it will pass by leaving nothing behind. it is music and sheets and hot chocolate and a book.

see you tomorrow.