It's been a while since we've even had an internet conversation, let alone a real one, and I started to feel the disconnect a while back. It's cool though, no really, not blustering, bluffing, or trying to be tuff. It wasn't just that ya know...
Got ruffed up by the boys in blue two days in a row and saw my hopes for this summer going down in flames fast. Then today, I get smacked hard by yet another disrespectful action by yours truly, and I'm realizing that she doesn't understand. So I smash my fist, kick some things, and a lot of expletives going water falling from my mouth. I walk half way to a home I know, hop the bus, and then rap on their chamber door. I vent, they laugh, we chat, all laugh, I vent some more, am made to eat a sandwich, and must decline a dance with Evan. Out the door, bursting with energy, determined to write the wrongs of the past 72 hours, and it's just one of those days. Like, hmmm, ya know...If I bought 3 scratch lotto tickets two of them would be winners.
I get to the loop and make my way into the fest and begin to feel through the energies. I gauge where the collective is and start my rounds. Tagging people with invisible markers for later meetings of the minds and enjoying all the slap bass. There were some good solo get downs but I was mostly admiring all the people dancing. It's nice to sit in the passenger seat in that regard and focus on other pursuits. My first customer was a group of three (this would become a theme) and it was amazing to come into there experience. I popped in, did what I needed to do, was well received and once done peace'd. The tips varied but a soon to be traveler of Spain dropped 20bucks on one of my poems and I about died.
Ran into a group of freight hoppers, they gave me lessons, tried to introduce me to various people and hype me up. I was grateful and gave them some of my take from the day. I think they wanted me to be a part of their crew but I explained I'm Ronin and that would greatly go against all I'm striving to be these days. As the festival dumped out I got to jam with this dope bluegrass band on the corner of Jackson and Michigan. They got the night lift in a marvelous furry with some of that old timey stuff. Even did an encore performance of Wagon wheel as I etched out a poem about that one that ran away and of course not more then 20ft from where she ran in.
I admired the night, my life, and what I was able to do with all that negative energy that was ripping me apart. I called out my thanks plainly, through song, and to my final random friend as we rode the green line. Tomorrow will be a good day, glad I've found my way around the system, and will work through what comes next because....well...I know there is something else to dimantle right around the corner.